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Layers
Tuesday morning finds me wide awake, though my head is still tight and fuzzy inside. I've checked the weather and am facing the only dilemma one really should face at this time of year, not, “should I re-gift this?” or “is it okay to have more mince pie?” but “what do I wear on a workday in December with a projected high of eighty?” I have an angora sweater I'd planned to wear before consulting the weather reports last night, but angora and air conditioning would act at cross purposes, I think, and so I shall probably err on the side of comfort and wear lighter-weight black pants, a colorful, but cotton, shirt, and a cardigan that will dress up the outfit and also act as a removable layer. I'm all about the layers.
Speaking of layers, my favorite part of receiving presents is often the wrapping. Oh, not in the way a small child or animal is totally entranced by an empty box, but in the sense of wonder that comes from the way a few layers of tissue and tape, ribbon and bows, can make an ordinary box seem magical and amazing, and make the giver seem so, as well. (My favorite part of presents in general, however, is actually giving them to others.)
Waning
Still sick, I spent most of the day cuddled in bed with dogs and movies and stuff to read, sipping coffee every now and then, and at one point deciding that mince pie is medicinal. No, really, it is.
There's a part of me that is dreading work tomorrow, but the bigger part of my brain is glad of the distraction – I won't miss having family here if I keep busy, after all.
I had hoped to spend the weekend doing some writing, but am just so tired, and haven't been able to breathe – even at the movies yesterday I felt really blechy – I didn't even want Starbucks today, and was content with my home-brewed pot of that lovely deep brown elixir.
It was still 70 degrees outside at eight, and the leaves skittering across the patio in the balmy but blustery wind sound like rattlesnakes about to strike, and this leaves the dogs feeling unsettled. No surprise then, that after an entire afternoon of being curled up against me in the bed, they're content to spend the night in much the same way.
Some of the neighbors already have their Christmas lights down. It is the 26th, and the holiday season is waning, but their houses are shockingly bare, it seems, and cold despite the unseasonably warm, dry temperatures.
I like the word 'waning' – it reminds me of the ebb and flow (primarily the ebb) of tides, and seems such a vivid term for a concept not dissimilar to fading. The fading of the season, the gradual lengthening of days that has already started. Time waxes and wanes and we live within the ticking of clocks and the beeping of alarms, and never stop to notice things like the red berries on the bushes, until the lack of holiday lights makes them stand out.
Yes. This is the cold medicine talking.
And yet…it's also not.
Christmas for Two
Earlier this month I wrote that I was feeling isolated and a little sad because we weren't spending Christmas with any family this year, but, since I'm still all scratchy-throated and stuffy-headed, it turned out to be a good thing. Playing hostess when you feel icky is less than fun.
Then, too, we had a cozy, quiet Christmas with just the two of us, on our own schedule. I managed to make it through Christmas Eve mass by drinking water and sucking on lemon-mint Ricola during most of the service (this is the nice thing about the choir being in the back. We ALL bring in water or coffee and hide it behind the piano), though I was so congested that I had NO low range, and switched to Soprano on Silent Night. It seems weird, I guess, to others, but when I'm all stuffy my high range improves. We enter, for this service, in procession behind the guy with the incense, and then we stop and light the candles of the congregation. Mind you, we're marching into a darkened church, in robes with bat-wing sleeves, carrying lit candles in one hand, and our music in the other (because who really knows all SIX verses of “O Come All Ye Faithful” by heart, with the descant and harmony parts?), so when I tell you it was perfect, what I mean is, no one caught fire, dropped anything, forgot the lyrics, or tripped. Seriously, it was a magical evening – something about it being nighttime, and everyone feeling festive.
We came home and read/puttered on computers for a couple hours, fell into bed around two, and were back at church for 10 AM mass yesterday, which was laid back and homey, as opposed to magical and serious. The choir is “off” for Christmas Day and New Year's day, which means that we only sit together if enough of us show, and if not, we sit in the pews, and all the hymns are from the hymnal, and the anthem is instrumental. Fuzzy and I happened to be in the back, so when we were tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to carry the offering, we said “sure.” It was a little thing, but a nice end-cap for the day. Well, that and that we got to sing my favorite plainsong piece (which I only recently learned, but the melody is sweet, and the piece falls RIGHT into my range) “Of the Father's love begotten.” (And since we were in the congregation, I got to sing melody on EVERYTHING. Yay!)
Yesterday afternoon we popped over to Cedar Hill to see The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which I loved to bits. A couple of tiny things were eliminated, but overall I thought they managed to make it true to the spirit of the books, without being overwhelmingly sappy. And it was fun to pick out the adult voice actors when the animals were speaking. However, I'm sure I must be delirious, and not merely congested, because I was having lustful thoughts about Mr. Tumnus. (I have to say, one thing I really liked – and this is what makes this movie a fantasy that really is child-safe. They didn't cheat the battle scenes, but they also didn't show bloodspray or anything gory, and I liked that. Narnia shouldn't be soaked in blood.)
Somewhere in there we also did presents, just from each other, and we'd set a strict budget limit this year, too. So, Fuzzy got a new coat (a chocolate brown wool-blend car coat, much nicer than the jacket I keep trying to burn), and man-slippers (I was tired of the sweats and hiking boots look), a 7th Sea book he really wanted, and a very cool wolf t-shirt. And he gave me a red leather stationery box I've been eyeing, season 5 of The West Wing and STTNG: Insurrection on DVD (the special edition) (yes, the latter was the worst of the Next Gen movies, but one must have complete collections) as well as having my two Fossil watches repaired (just dead batteries, but no one other than the Fossil kiosk could get them open apparently), the older of the two stopped working three years ago, the other died on the plane to come out here to look at property in 2004, and I've been wearing this think with a pink faux-snakeskin band for almost a year, but it's really too casual for many of my outfits, so it's good to have options once more.
Today, I plan to remain curled up with tea and books, and since we opted to go to the movies rather than cook the roast I bought, we'll have our nice meal tonight. There's a mince pie calling my name, and my aunt sent us a box of homemade Christmas cookies, so it's a good time to want to just read and nibble.
Christmas for two is exactly what I needed this year.
Definitive Christmas
Everyone has certain songs that âœmakeâ their Christmas. For my mother, itâ™s Nat âœKingâ Cole singing âœThe Christmas Song,â while my (ethnically Jewish) stepfather has a thing for âœJoy to the Worldâ – I think he likes the brassiness of it. This is my âœdefinitive Christmasâ playlist of the moment. Since I didnâ™t make cdâ™s for anyone this year (except our choir director, who is getting a copy of this entry), I thought Iâ™d share the list.
1) âœThe Giftâ performed by the Kingâ™s Singers. Iâ™d never heard it until a few nights ago, as I wrote in a previous blog entry, but Iâ™ve fallen in love with it. I should confess, however, that Iâ™ve loved the melody ever since we learned it in grade school, and my favorite version of the song itself is YoYo Maâ™s.
2) âœOh Little Town of Bethlehemâ performed by the Kingâ™s College Choir. One day, not long after Fuzzy and I had started singing with the choir at church, our choir director mentioned that one of the hymns we were doing was also an alternate melody for this song. So, of course, I had to FIND that version. Who better than the folks at Kingâ™s?
3) âœSilent Nightâ performed by John Denver. I grew up surrounded by jazz, 1970â™s rock, and folk music, and since we lived in Colorado for seven years, a LOT of John Denver music. I love that his settings are so simple and sing-able, and I also love the purity of his voice.
4) âœGod Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kingsâ performed by the Barenaked Ladies and Sara McLaughlin. At first, I thought this was the worst Christmas song ever, but then I found myself riffing on it in the shower. Taking traditional songs and resetting them in contemporary forms appeals to my inner rebel, I guess, or the part of me that really wants to be a 1940â™s cabaret singer. Anyway, yeah, this song is catchy.
5) âœSanta Babyâ performed by Eartha Kitt. Must I say more than âœMeowwwww?â
6) âœAll I Want for Christmas (Is You)â performed by Mariah Carey. Fun, flirty, and upbeat. Itâ™s fluff, but itâ™s happy fluff. And a little candy floss is a good thing now and then.
7) âœIt Mustâ™ve Been Old Santa Clausâ performed by Harry Connick, Jr. I live for jazz and swing (as much as I live for show tunes and folk), and Iâ™ve had a musical crush on Harry since EVER. This song is so kicky it never fails to make me smile.
8) âœMy Grown Up Christmas Listâ performed by Natalie Cole. I know Amy Grant originated the song, but I like Natalie Coleâ™s warmer, darker tones better. This is the ultimate Christmas song for people like me who grew up with activist parents.
9) âœWhite Christmasâ performed by Bing Crosby. A perennial favorite, and it reminds me of my grandmother. I think she had Bing on her freebie list.
10) âœIâ™ll Be Home for Christmasâ performed by Diana Krall. I donâ™t dislike Frank Sinatraâ™s version of this song, but Diana Krallâ™s is newer and suits my own sensibilities more. This song, I keep on my list in memory of my grandfather. It makes me cry.
11) âœThe Christmas Songâ performed by Nat King Cole. Iâ™m enough of a Christmas traditionalist to require this version over all others. I could listen to it forever. And probably will.
12) âœBelieveâ performed by Josh Groban. This is the end title tune from the movie of The Polar Express, which I loved because it was true to the style of the book (we all know I hate animation). I fell in love with this song over the summer.
13) âœChristmas Lullabyeâ by Jason Robert Brown. This song is from Songs for a New World, and I want to say that the singer on the cd is Jennifer Molaskey, but since I donâ™t have the ACTUAL cd, only the tracks (which I bought legally from Napster), I donâ™t have all the artist information. I would kill to sing this song somewhere other than my living room.
14) âœO Holy Nightâ performed by Charlotte Church. While Iâ™ve always loved this song, I can never find a version that really satisfies me. Charlotte Churchâ™s is as good as any, I guess, even though her voice is a little too sweet sometimes. (Then again, she was pretty young when she recorded this.)
15) âœAve Mariaâ performed by Andrea Bocelli. The Schubert version, though I like the Gounod/Bach version as well. You cannot grow up in an Italian family without this song being part of your cultural heritage. The only other Christmas song that screams âœNew Jersey Neapolitanâ more loudly is âœDominick the Donkey,â which Iâ™m not including.
16) âœYou Are the New Dayâ performed by the Kingâ™s Singers. Itâ™s their traditional closing song at most of their concerts, and while itâ™s not really a Christmas song, I like the melody and the message, and the notion of beginning and ending a list with a song by the same artist. I first heard it in a master class when I was fifteen, and Iâ™ve loved it ever since.
The Christmas Eve Cookie Question
Because I'm a compulsive baker, and because my fellow choristers are all dear, sweet, people, I'm making gingerbread cookies to bring to them at our pre- Midnight Mass rehearsal tonight. I'm thinking that since chocolate covered ginger is a tasty treat, tossing some chocolate chips into the cookies might be a good idea. I know it's Christmas Eve, but if you're around, please help me decide.
Balmy
It may be the day before Christmas eve, but it's a balmy 71 outside my bedroom window right now, warmer than it was this morning when we left for work, or even than it was on the ride home. Yay cloud cover.
Somehow, even though the weather is NOT seasonal, I don't mind it. It's giving me a mental lift (or maybe that's the Nyquil, Benadryl, Actifed, and Zircam I've taken over the last 36 hours? NO not all at once.) that I really need as I'm trying to shake this horrible cold/sore throat thing, by tomorrow night, so I can actually sing during midnight mass (which begins at 10:30 here).
The last batch of Christmas cards went out, my major plans for the daylight hours tomorrow involve last minute shopping and having my hair cut and colored, and maybe making gingerbread cookies. We have “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” to watch, and I'm in the middle of a Christmas Snapefic just for kicks. So, it will be a cozy, quiet weekend, which is just what I really need.
May your weekends all bring just what you want.
Cards
I was going to make this post a rant about how just because I'm married people I've known all my life have suddenly started addressing mail to me as Mrs. Fuzzy'sLastName, and not just MissMeliss, and how this annoys me, because a) I've never introduced myself as Mrs. Anything. Mrs. is not a title I use. If you want to formally address me, use Ms. If you want to address something to my husband and me, “MissMeliss and Fuzzy FuzzysLastName” is my preference. I don't believe in false formality, and I DO believe that people should be called what they WISH to be called. Mind you, if you do use Mrs. as your title, then, hey, cool. But it's not me. It hasn't been me in the nearly eleven years I've been married. It will never be me.
But I'm not going to rant about that, because after eleven years, people should know, and because it's almost Christmas, and who wants to read rants at Christmas?
Instead I'm going to talk about Christmas cards. I love them. I love them for the pictures on the fronts, as well as for the words inside, which, hopefully, are added to in an inky scrawl, and not just perfunctorily signed. I love the surprise of getting a card from someone I've been meaning to contact for too long, and then finally call because the card makes me, and I love the anticipation, as December grows nearer, of receiving the first card in the mail.
My aunt sends me a small advent calender card (sans chocolate) every year – it's become a personal ritual, and one I love. My mother's cards are homemade, printed on her printer, and feature pictures of her beach – this year she forgot to leave room for an address box, so randomly wrote the TO addresses, and frankly, I'm amazed we all received the cards. My grandmother used to begin every card with “Hi Darling,” and it took me til I was fifteen to realize it was because she often didn't remember where the card would end up. “Hi Darling” was her generic family greeting. (It was also the only line many of us could read – my grandmother had abysmal handwriting.)
Today, I came home to find not just cards, but COOKIES waiting for me, and my mood went from tired and crabby to tired and hopeful, just because of a few cards.
(The practical upshot of all this: If you're one of my friends in Europe or the UK, or in Canada, or in the third batch of names on my list, your card didn't go out til today because I'm lazy and slow, and have been really sick. Um. They should get there by Epiphany. That counts, right?)
Short
I seem to be short on time, short on sleep, and short tempered this week, which is sort of ironic since there's no real stress in my life, except a sore throat I can't shake.
At work, it's day five, and I'm still passwordless, though I think we're making progress. At home, Christmas cards (batch three) are still awaiting postage – sorry, folks some of you will have to wait til after Christmas, as they're going out tomorrow.
My short term memory is blink this week – I keep forgetting Christmas is THIS Sunday, not NEXT Sunday. Somehow, the pattern of days feels 'off' somehow, as if we skipped a whole week somewhere, or something. I realize it's probably just me acclimating to working again, but it's rather disconcerting.
I'm short on patience. A friend questioned why I greeted her then immediately left. While that isn't quite what happened (I asked how she was and got a two word response, I think.), I should have been more patient, but you know, the alternative would have been to idle out, rather than say goodbye, and HER short answer gave the impression she didn't wish to talk. So, for the record, I apologize for being a little TOO short, when explaining myself and then declaring that I simply wouldn't greet any more, but I am only accepting 50% of the responsibility for any further grief. (Which I'm too short on time, to have, actually.)
Next week, I only work three days. THIS week, however, cannot be short enough. I'm tired, and need a break that is NOT short.
HEAR THIS: the King’s Singers
I was first introduced to the King's Singers when I was in high school. They were touring the US, and our performing arts magnet was on their route from San Francisco to Los Angeles, so they graciously agreed to do a brown bag lunch/master class/q&a with the vocal music students. None of us had ever heard of them, and when our choir director, Mr. H., told us they were an all-male sextet that usually sang a capella, we expected a bunch of stuffy old British guys.
Well, they were British, and they were guys, but really only one or two of them qualified as old. They sang a couple of songs for us – the Beatle's “Money Can't Buy Me Love,” arranged in the form of a traditional madrigal, and a French folk song (which might have been “Le Belle Dans La Limosine”), and then they took questions from all of us, and showed us some different breathing and vocalizing techniques, pushed the importance of warm-ups, and generally charmed a room full of teenaged girls (mostly girls, anyway). At the end, they performed their signature closing tune, “You Are the New Day,” which remains one of my favorite songs.
Most of us, me included, were quite taken with a singer named Jeremy Jackman, their alto (aka countertenor, an adult male singer who uses a falsetto voice to provide the treble voice in a male choir). He was tall and sort of gawky, and really sweet and funny, but it's his voice that has stayed lodged in my brain for all these years, more than his face.
Cut to Saturday night around 11:50. Despite knowing that I had to be in bed early, to be up early for pre-Mass choir practice, I was half-watching Forest Gump on TNT and idly scrolling through music on my Zen Micro, when I stopped at a tune called “The Gift” from a King's Singers Christmas album. I played it, and was entranced.
It's hardly a new tune – the melody is taken from the Quaker hymn “Simple Gifts” – Tis a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free, etc. etc. – but had been re-set with Christmas lyrics, and arranged into their usual tight six-part harmony, and I was utterly enthralled, playing it through three or four times.
Fuzzy walked in at the end of the fourth play-through, and laughed at me, he said, “because you looked so focussed and cute but I didn't know what you were doing.” I threw a pillow at him. But I went to sleep with Jeremy Jackman's high notes ringing in my head.
Their Christmas album is not new (Mr. Jackman left the group in 1990), and the singers have changed a little over the years, as older members have retired and been replaced, but if you want really pure tones, really amazing harmony, and really beautiful music, they can't be beat.