Salamander
Fire Walking

If one is tuned to the Soft Rock “Sounds of the Season” station on cable, is one watching television, or listening to music? It hardly matters; the sound track sucks either way. I’m sitting here staring at the little factoid slide-show that Music Choice scrolls through while playing music by musicians I would never listen to else wise. Don’t believe me? Well, right now Donny Osmond is setting the mood with “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” while a slide with a guitar nestled in lit pine boughs informs me that "Nocehbuena" means "Christmas Eve" in Spanish. I cannot tell you how edified and merrified I feel from this.

And yet, like with any car wreck, I cannot look away. When Christmas was banned by Parliament, mince pies were banned in England. The station typifies my approach to Christmas – participating in something I’m not having any particular fun with because I feel like should be having fun with it. Part of me insists that if I just try it, I’ll like it. The other part mocks the first part.

Woolworths’ five-and-dime is credited with originating the idea of giving employees a Christmas bonus. I have the trees up (cat ornament tree and regular tree). I even stuck a few lights out on the deck. I baked a batch of cardamom cookies, which are about the only kind of cookies I know how to make that I consider distinctively mine. I want to be festive, but it just isn’t working. Who the heck is one-name artist “Joe”? He’s singing “This Christmas” right now, whoever he is.

As noted in previous year’s entries, I despise gift certificates as Christmas gifts. I give my sisters $100 gift certificates to their favorite garden store; they give me $100 gift certificates to where ever they think I want to shop. We actually could have spared each other the grief; it’s a wash. I’d forgotten how much I despise Amy Grant – her “I’ll be Home for Christmas” is like eating treacle when my water glass is empty. This year I’m tired of resisting and I’m giving the damned gift certificates. At least it provides a wonderful no-stress approach to Christmas shopping while minimizing wrapping obligations. I still need to figure out something to buy The Prof. Half the time I just give up and throw money at something I think he might like, but this year we haven’t the money to waste on unwanted and unneeded Yuletide joy.

Like most sensible men, if The Prof wants or needs something, he goes out and gets it. His wants and needs are minimal, and I have no skill at discovering things he wants or needs before he realizes the gaping hole the lack of these items are leaving in his life. I sure as hell know he won't want the "Platinum Christmas" album from 2000 by Britney Spears. This station provides no inspiration.

I have a cold that was incipient an hour ago. It’s amazing how short a time “incipient” lasts, although I guess it seems like forever to the virus particle trying to set up shop in my nose. Alabama was the first state to declare Christmas a holiday in 1836. In the space of an hour the trash can next to me has filled with soggy tissues; this may explain that I haven’t got the energy to actually get this freaking drek off my television.

Glaedelig Jul means “Merry Christmas” in Danish. I wonder how you say “Bah Humbug” in Danish. Did you know that Play-Doh originally entered the market as a wallpaper cleaner in 1956? Barry Manilow is singing “Count Your Blessings”. I think I have a fever.