I kicked Christmas to the curb early this year. Normally I'm all about the twelve days bit. This time the tree was showing signs of crunchiness around the turn of the year, and I gleefully stripped it down and dragged it out to the street.
Christmas music is one of favorite parts of the season. I look forward to it every year, and over time I've curated a rock and jazz collection of holiday tunes of which I'm very fond.
I never let myself listen to Christmas music before December 1st if I can help it. (I can't forbid the grocery store from playing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on November 1st. Yet.)
So here we stand in this season of waiting on the verge of what could be a new hope. Nah, not Christmas. That turns up every year.
I'm talking about Star Wars, of course.
Folks from my generation seem to be tip-toeing into tomorrow with caution.
"You doing an original trilogy marathon first?"
"No, don't want to get too excited, you know?"
I had my yearly festive "Oh crap it's only two weeks 'til Christmas" panic attack yesterday. Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la.
It's alright. It wouldn't be the holidays if I wasn't buying candles for the advent wreath two weeks in and then burning them down preferrentially to make it look like I had been on top of it from the beginning.
It's starting to look like Christmas around here. Not a lot. Just a little bit. We're still unpacking but we can deck the cardboard boxes.
In 1895, Grover Cleveland was president of the United States. H.G. Wells had just built his Time Machine, and Oscar Wilde was teaching audiences The Importance of Being Earnest on the stage. The first working long-distance radio and the first moving picture projector were applying for patents.
California's female population was campaigning hard for the right to vote in state elections. Bicycling was all the rage. Big sleeves and bigger hats were in.
In Woodland, California, a new opera house was under construction. And also...
One of the rudest things about moving is that life doesn't stop while you do it. You still have to make the thing for the school bake sale and halloween costumes actually can't be put off until next month. You get to what you think is the end of packing the kitchen and then realize that the dishwasher is full of clean dishes because people around here still insist on eating, and the plates and cups pile up accordingly. What to do with dirty laundry the day before moving day? Wash it now and stay up late folding it into boxes? Chuck it dirty into its own box labeled "Eew"?
A note to my few but highly esteemed readers. This entry marks the first of a handful of entries engaging in a practice I call back-blogging, which is to say I wrote them a couple of weeks ago and I'm just posting them now. Generally I'm opposed to the process, however, as you will shortly see, the last couple of months I've been going through a substantial business transaction, which is the sort of thing I feel it is unwise to provide live public commentary on.
Halloween has come and gone, and with much less fanfare than is usual in the house of Swingbug. With all that's going on right now, I didn't do much. I mean, really not much. I carved one pumpkin, that I bought at the grocery store no less, and that comprised the whole of the house decorations. I'm pretty sure The Great Pumpkin doesn't show up to the sincerest shopping mart to bring presents to all the good girls and boys, but sometimes, you have to go easy and stay sane.