THIS CHRISTMAS ON FIRE

A good way to listen to holiday music is on one's phone, Pandora, Blue Tooth, stereo, radio, or computer. Another way is through the television. At my daughter's house on Christmas, the television is playing some interesting music -- from old-school to pop to rap. Along with the music there are charming winter scenes with enhanced lighting to make the pictures more festive as they roll across the TV screen.

Except the special effects don't really work.

Case in point: It's a lovely scene along a residential street. At first glance, the entire area is festive with lights and warmth. Upon closer look, though, it is clear that the entire neighborhood is on fire. FIRE!!!!!! It is a Christmas conflagration! Someone's overly-dry tree must've sparked up. No presents for you! Now the whole block is aflame.  Good job, folks, good job.

Then there is a scene straight out of a 1970's Irwin Allen disaster movie. "My gawd! The building is on FIRE! Run for the exits! Fireball! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"  It's a disaster movie just waiting to be filmed. Some idiot probably called Bruce Willis and said, "Die Hard is NOT a Christmas movie!" Then John McClane set fire to the high-rise, and now ... Christmas conflagration!

Merry Christmas, or, rather, Happy Boxing Day. Also, happy St. Stephen's Day. 

And remember, only YOU can prevent Christmas television scene fires.

WE'RE WAITING

Here it comes. Here comes the snow.

Hard to believe since it has been so warm. The last couple of days have been in the fifties and sixties, practically bikini weather around here. How can it snow when we are all boiling in our own skins?

Today at work we have Ugly Holiday Sweater day. It's a great plan. After all, it's December in New England. We should be freezing our patootskis off by now. Instead, I sweat so much in my wonderful holiday sweater, giving credence to the SWEAT part, that I want to shower as soon as I get home.

Instead, I tear off the sweater and opt for a lightweight fleece so I can walk to the Amazon delivery hub and pick up some packages. It's a short walk, but even the light fleece is too much. It is still warm out. 

This is when I see it.

It's not a true ring around the moon, but there is definitely a halo. Old Wives' Tale or not, this is an indication of rain or snow coming. There are some reports that half a foot of snow is coming. The ground, though, just isn't ready. Nothing has frozen properly yet.  

Come on, snow. Come on winter. Our sleds, snowshoes, skis, and skates are waiting, and so are we.

SELF-IMPOSED REGENERATION

 

Weeks of being sickly finally caught up with me yesterday.

 I woke up this morning to lights still on. 

Sneakers still on. 

Fleece still on. 

Street clothes still on.

I remember being tired and lying down on top of my bed.

That's it. 

I wake up hours,

And I do mean hours,

Later,

Feeling a little disoriented

(Because, hey, some of the lights are still on)

But sooooo good.

My cold seems to be finally gone.

I am not coughing up a lung.

I am not suffering residual post-booster lethargy.

But I have zero idea as to when I dozed off.

I was reading,

And then . . . 

I wasn't.

I got nothing done last night.

Nothing.

No Christmas gifts wrapped, 

No candles lit, 

No tree plugged in.

The shades are closed, so there is that.

I hate when my body rebels against me,

But I appreciate that it had the good sense to take itself to bed.

Well, the top of the bed, deep into the pile of pillows.

Here's to Christmas overdrive and general exhaustion!

Here's to autopilot regeneration!

May all of your bodies shut themselves down when you truly need it.

By the way, it isn't even the ass-crack of dawn yet.

Anyone up for a Christmas game?

Seriously, folks -- take care of yourselves.

Thirteen days to go.

TRULY BAD CHRISTMAS POETRY

'Twas the first week of Advent

And all through the place

I was making up lists

And prepping to race

From cyber to mall,

From website to store,

From wish-list to prayer.

I can't take any more!

The season just started -

I'm mentally done.

The stress and the pressure

Has sucked up the fun!

Honestly, Christmas

Is truly a blast.

I wish it were longer;

I wish it would last.

I'm not Ebenezer,

I'm not a Scrooge jerk --

This season would glow

If I just didn't work!

Oh, I'll pull it off,

If I do know me.

I'll make it through Christmas,

Just you wait and see.

I have my planned action;

I'm not being smug:

I'm drinking mimosas

From a Santa mug

And lighting the candles

In the Advent wreath,

Enjoying the tree

With presents beneath.

My head does exclaim

With a frightening heft:

Get your fat ass moving!

Three weeks are what's left!