Friday night found me Christmas caroling with a knot of friends in the chilly night air. We were wrapped up in scarfs and coats and cloaks, gripping our song books through gloves and mittens. No doubt we looked a little like the blow-up snowmen and penguins that bedecked my neighbors' lawns.
Is this new phenomenon taking over your neighborhood too? The air pump inflated, light up, snow blowing, gi-normous Christmas lawn ornaments? Remember when it was just lights? Perhaps the occasional twinkle-lit reindeer grazing on the lawn? There is one house that is near my ballet studio that looks like it's been taken over by the progeny of the Stay-Puft Marshmellow Man. I'm serious. I keep expecting to drive by and see Ray and Egon charging up their positron colliders to send Evil Frosty up there on the roof back to his own dimension.
As for the tasteful twinkle-lit reindeer grazing on the lawn, we have those in our neighborhood too. The other night Jenny drove by a pair of them to find them engaging in... Well, let's not go there. And after all, baby reindeer have to come from somewhere.
Er... Maybe we better go back to caroling...
There were two wonderful moments from our escapades around the neighborhood.
The first house we sang at is on the other side of Jenny's. (Those of you who have been reading my blog long enough to recall the missing bunny episodes of last April will be familiar with this household already.) The mother of the house answered the door with a tot or two in tow. After something chipper like Frosty the Snowman, she thanked us in Spanish and explained that she didn't speak English. Last year we encountered this a few times while caroling around the neighborhood and had no recourse except a painfully bad rendition of "Feliz Navidad." This year Jenny came prepared and we flipped over to Noche de Paz (Silent Night) and pulled it off pretty well. The mother came out and sang with us. That was neat.
Later in the evening, we came upon a brightly lit house. An older couple came out to hear us sing. The gentleman ducked back in to fetch a box of candy canes for us, and as he came back out he unknowingly freed their poodle, who was fiercely protecting the lawn from the savage carolers. As the poodle bounded back and forth across the lawn, the older gentleman alternatively passed out candy canes and tried to steer the unwieldy pup back into the house. Still singing, we, the carolers, did not know what to do. There was a good pack of us. Twelve maybe. Some backed off into the street so as not to upset the dog. Others fanned out across the lawn trying to coral the poodle towards the door. The poodle got more concerned and continued darting back and forth, knocking over light-up lawn ornaments and dragging them along behind him. While his wife chased after the dog, the older gentlemen was still bound and determined to see to it that we all got a candy cane. And through this we're all still singing Silent Night or some such tune. Except for me. By now I'm laughing uncontrollably because the scene is just so ridiculous I can't help myself.
So there. How many carolers does it take to wreak total havoc on a neighborhood? 12. 12 carolers, 11 blow-up frosties, 10 broken candy-canes, 6 up-turned lawn ornaments, 2 very friendly reindeer, and a barking poodle in a pear tree.