Taking on my life, pop culture and the written word bare knuckled......with a soundtrack.
Monday, December 13, 2010
My favorite holiday is less than two weeks away. Yesterday, while on the way to church to watch my niece, Isabella, aka Belly, do brilliant work as Corporal Christie in her Christmas play, I caught the last twenty seconds of Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5bo4VDEH-U . I groaned at not being able to hear one of maybe 5 contemporary Christmas songs I can stomach. My wife, who loves anything with Christmas in the title, snarked, "what's that Christmas wrapping paper song or band you like?" I responded, Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses." She said "Whatever, you love me." I laughed then realized, wow, for my favorite holiday, I don't enjoy a lot of things other people do. Watching A Christmas Story or It's A Wonderful Life are cool, but I've seen them so many times that I can tell you who the stuntmen were. After the Rat Pack made their Christmas album in the early 1960s, most Christmas music is maudlin and just not good. Here's the real rub; I don't like getting presents. Yeah, I wrote that. I enjoy, greatly giving gifts. Seeing the smiles on the faces of my family and friends is what I treasure about Christmas. For whatever reason, dumb luck, or just unique circumstances to myself, I have never looked froward to receiving presents since I was a teenager. I am tough to buy for, I admit that. I think Santy Claus gave up on pleasing me after age 8. I shudder when I hear and/or see people over the age of 16 talk about their "list". Give me some pumpkin pie, my family being nice to me, and everyone healthy. I'll get you gift cards or stuff I know you like, don't worry about me.
Over at a couple of other blogs: http://writeouschick.wordpress.com and http://zebrasounds.net they're asking for your wildest stories or things that your consider wild, emotionally and intellectually. It might have been the dayquil I took to stave off the cold my wife probably gave me, but I got wistful and said my widlest days are ahead of me. Do I have stories about waking up on putt golf courses in Panama City, Florida with no pants on and a mustache painted on my face. Yes. I realized, though, getting married again, blended the family I have, my wife, the Bobina, and our three daughters and one golden retriever, is the wildest thing I have ever done.
My family will have their third Christmas together. We are mastering the art of multiple sides of family and their traditions. We are getting decent starts on Santy Claus duties. Mostly, we are learning what Christmas means to each of us, after, of course, it being Jesus' birthday. Bobina and I have entered negotiations as to what we are doing for each other concerning gifts. She is steadfast on not buying for each other so we can make sure the kids, our family members, and friends have gifts. I'm sure I will just get in a whole lot of trouble and get here something and even a few things. She asked me, hypothetically speaking I'm sure, what I wanted. I sarcastically said, socks, underwear and a tattoo. She called me a few names and huddled with the kids. Who knows what's coming now? I don't have a real list, as I said, I find those to be reprehensible. I do have some hopes.
I hope there's pumpkin pie. I hope my kids are majestically happy. I hope my wife knows how much I love her and appreciate what she's done for me over the past 3 years. I hope the Jets turn it around. I hope the Falcons keep it going. I hope the the sports media quits talking about Brett Favre, we've all had enough. I hope the weather moderates so I dont have to clean out the new fireplace in our new house. I hope there's a little extra money in the budget so I can find something special for Bobina, she deserves it. I hope my friends, here and there, have awesome holidays. I hope there's genuine joy for everyone who reads this.
I hope you enjoy 1981 Billy Squier, because this is one more Christmas song I like:
The Hill Of Sugar, suburban Atlanta, Georgia, United States
Hi, I'm Lance; in 1972, I was sent to prison by a military court for a crime I didn't commit. I promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, I survive as a soldier of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find me then, maybe you can hire my blog can beat up your blog.