Mistletoe and Holly

Hello World, Happy December! (Believe it or not, as Ripley's would say.) Alas, the ignoble realization that we have indeed reached the final month of the year, which if you're anything like some of us (who shall remain nameless, but look suspiciously like yours truly) started out optimistically in January, full of promise and grand expectations of all that could be accomplished - and now here we are, well beyond the eleventh hour, and nothing to show for it, I can tell you that. Where does the time go, I simply have no idea, honestly. It's like I fell asleep on Groundhog Day, and just now woke up from a hideous dream, and wondering where it all went wrong. Every year, I promise myself resolutely, "Next year is going to be different," but when all is said and done, it winds up being exactly the same as always, and I don't mind saying, all of the ill-mannered snickering from our old friends the dinosaurs in The Peanut Gallery, has done nothing to stem the tide. Now I'm thinking what I should do is make the official pronouncement that next year is going to be exactly the same, and see if that has the opposite and desired effect, or if all heck breaks loose instead. Oh well, if it's all going to go to blazes anyway, I suppose we may as well just climb into the hand-basket right now and get it over with - and not to mention, devil take the hind-most, and I ought to know. These days on the local scene, it's amazing how the weather continues to be so unpredictable now, with wild swings from high to low temperatures from one day to the next, and often, all on the same day, thanks not. Recently it went from being around 80 degrees the previous week, to 20 degrees practically overnight, much to the chagrin of garden stiff with frost, woefully misguided houseflies, and disgruntled birds out in their earmuffs and long johns. It was one of those frigid days that I was coming home from church, all bundled up in the car, and heading straight for me was the ice cream truck, of all things, with its signature Mr. Softee music blaring for all the world to hear, like this was the balmiest beach day in July. Seriously, the driver must have been delusional. Probably from the cold, I shouldn't wonder. On the other side of the coin, it was only November 14 when I was driving home from work and saw a banner hanging between two telephone poles announcing "Danny's Christmas Trees and Wreaths" at a nearby nursery, and the next day when Bill and I came back from a doctor appointment across town, we passed a parking lot where the fence had already been festooned with a welter of seasonal flashing lights for all the world to see. The Hallmark Channel has been showing nothing but Christmas movies since before Halloween, and the Christmas circulars started turning up in our newspaper so early, I don't even remember when the first one was. (As I recall, it featured special yuletide-themed swimsuits, so that should tell you something right there.) Then there's a local radio station, Lite-FM @ 106.7 on your dial, that has been playing continuous Christmas music since November 21st (you read that right) which was not even after Thanksgiving, when Tom Turkey was already cold, for Pete's sake. I've been listening to them in the car back and forth to work, getting into the holiday spirit with plenty of ho-ho-holly and jolly, and don't spare the sugarplums, my good man! It didn't take long for me to realize that they didn't play any traditional carols (such as "Silent Night" or "Joy to the World") but only popular music like "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and "Frosty the Snowman." Frankly, it doesn't take long to run right out of holiday songs at that rate, and basically just end up playing the same things over and over again for 24 hours straight. In fact, just in the time it takes me to get to work (about 40 minutes) I heard Dean Martin's version of "Let it Snow" when I first started out, and before I arrived at the garage, here was Frank Sinatra warbling the exact same song. I've been bombarded with so many and varied renditions of "Jingle Bells," "Sleigh Ride," and "Winter Wonderland," that at this point, there's a genuine possibility of me coming down with a serious case of frostbite right in the car, and once again, thanks so very much not. Of course, it was only last week that Thanksgiving burst upon the scene, and we were glad to celebrate the big day at my sister's cabin in (over the river and through) the woods, with all of the trimmings and then some. It seemed like for weeks beforehand, the media was agog with predictions of record-breaking traffic for the long holiday weekend, ostensibly due to a stronger economy and lower gas prices, or whatever. Tuesday and Wednesday by us, you couldn't take 2 steps without getting stuck in a traffic jam some place, and between the actual holiday and the usual Black Friday madness (some of which started days ahead of Friday) reports on the news were nothing short of alarming. But we left on Thursday morning, without another car in sight, and returned on Friday night the same way, so somehow that really worked out for us. When we first arrived at the cabin, it was too early to check into our hotel, so we decided instead to dig into our Thanksgiving dinner right then, and it did not disappoint, I can assure you. Our very gracious hostess plied us with overflowing platters of baked ziti, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn pudding, candied yams, stuffing, glazed carrots, and cranberry sauce, with plenty of apple cider to wash it all down with. There was no lack of college football games to keep us occupied, but a few of us also tackled some origami projects, although I can't say that the resultant paper cats or turkeys would win any prizes for being recognizable as their intended subject matter, that's for sure. At that point, we took a little bit of a detour in our day to go to our hotel, so we could check in, drop off our suitcases, and turn up the heat, which is something that we don't take chances with anymore, after learning our lesson the hard way with a few sub-zero lodging experiences when we didn't do that. (In fairness, we found the hotel room wasn't especially cold, but the stairwell up from the lobby was literally colder than being outside in the parking lot, and it took your breath away just trying to climb the stairs, all the while watching out for icicles along the way.) We were glad to get back to the warm and toasty cabin, where we pounced on a mouth-watering assortment of desserts, like coconut custard pie, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, brownies, and ice cream, and even after a big lunch, we made quite a dent in it all, believe me. Unfortunately, the holiday bus schedule was not accommodating for my sister on Long Island to join us for the occasion, so we had to soldier on without her and make the best of it. (More whipped cream for me, haha!) Later there were left-overs for dinner (YUM!) and a few late birthday presents for Bill, which was an interesting touch for Tom Turkey's usual day, but there were no complaints on that score. After a long and busy day, it was nice to get back to our hotel, where it was warm and quiet, and at least one of us didn't stay awake watching television, I can promise you that. In the morning, it was back to the cabin for some delicious French toast, cinnamon buns, melon, and left-over desserts (let me at those brownies!) whose restorative qualities cannot be over-stated by any means. We discovered, more or less by serendipitous accident, that their cable provider runs a special version of the Music Choice programming, including Sounds of the Season in a variety of different genres, such as classical, romantic, jazz, dance party, swing, country, hip hop, and more, with appropriate backdrops of Christmas trees, presents, decorations, and stockings hung by the chimney with care. Some of us were able to tear ourselves away from that long enough to take a leisurely ramble around the scenic Ashokan Reservoir, and it was a perfect day for that, no matter how you sliced it. Then it was back to the old homestead for more left-overs and dessert (YAY!) and nobody had to ask us twice to have a second helping, thank you ever so much. Suddenly it was getting dark, the way it does on this side of the winter solstice, and we knew it was time to pack up and hit the road, alas. Of course we made a pit stop at Denny's in Newburgh on the way, and I don't know which of us was happiest to see the other, I'm sure. After that, it was smooth sailing all the way home, in fine weather and without a lick of traffic, with the added benefit that the cats hadn't burned the house down in our absence, or sold it to unscrupulous speculators right out from under us. Here's hoping that everybody out there in the wide world enjoyed their Thanksgiving observance as much as we did, with all the fixings, and all the gobble gobble that anyone could hope for. Because, let's face it, otherwise all of those cranberries would have been sacrificed in vain. Elle