Christmas With the In-Laws
I’m tired and I want to go to bed, so this will be short. Christmas at the in-laws’ was mostly uneventful. Only the kids got gifts, which suited the rest of us just fine. Hubby and I stopped buying gifts for each other back in the days when money was extremely tight, and we’ve never gone back to buying them. His parents couldn’t afford to buy gifts this year for anybody but the smallest grands and great-grands. The older ones got gift cards, or cash. So it wasn’t such an orgy of handing out presents and cleaning up debris after, which was nice.
The food was great, as it always is.
We Skyped with Hubby’s oldest brother and his wife, who live in California, and Hubby’s sister’s husband’s sister’s family (say that ten times real fast) in Oklahoma City.
And the jerkish brother-in-law showed up with his family. He and I never made eye contact, although I tried. He never spoke to me. His wife ignored me also, until the moment they left and she gave me a sort of one-armed perfunctory hug while managing not to actually express any warmth. That takes practice, you know. He ignored the sister-in-law I talked to about him the other day, also. In fact, Hubby mentioned on the way home how he wasn’t sure where the wife was all afternoon, and said he figured she was hanging out in the back of the house with the kids.
Oh, well. Not my problem.
On the plus side, one of my nieces received an iPod Touch with which she’s made several music videos, complete with special effects. She’s talented — sings, dances, choreographs and directs videos. She’s 12 years old. Hubby and I can’t figure out where she gets it from.
Deport Piers Morgan!
Found by way of Instapundit and Forbes magazine online.
There’s a petition at the White House website to deport Piers Morgan for being an idiot. It’s got as much chance of actually accomplishing that as I have of becoming president, but it’s still funny. Piers Morgan himself, having started out viewing the whole thing with typical contempt, is now attacking it via Twitter. Because that’s what all the cool kids do.
What a goober.
Anyway, when I added my e-mail to the petition, this screen popped up:
That’s funny, I don’t care who y’are.
Christmas Eve Service
As there is little to no danger my boss — or anybody else, for that matter — will ever read this blog, let me tell you about our Christmas Eve service tonight.
And why, you may be wondering — if there’s anyone besides me reading this — would it be hazardous to discuss a Christmas Eve service? Well, it shouldn’t be. Christmas Eve services should be reverent, restful, joyous. They should be a time to gather and consider the great gift God gave us in His Son, who died to save us.
And mostly it was. Here’s the thing. Music is important. I say that not just because I’m a musician, or because I work for the (albeit interim) music minister. Music matters. And what I’m about to say probably pegs me, I suppose, as a traditionalist, old fuddy-duddy stick-in-the-mud. One of those grumpy old ladies who grouses about those kids and their loud music and weird ways.
Most of the service involved traditional Christmas music. One of our members played a carol medley with handbells. She did it by herself, which is no mean feat. My boss accompanied her on a synthesizer and it was beautiful. First time I see her I intend to tell her, because it was impressive. She was up there with two spotlights in her face and me, I’d have collapsed in terror or just started crying.
Now, I had heard that my boss had a plan to play a jazz version of “What Child Is This.” I wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but nobody consulted me, nor should they have. I don’t get a vote. That’s okay. I figured it would be low-key, tasteful, or at least not raucous.
Well, it wasn’t raucous, that’s unfair. But it was jazzy. And loud. And I like jazz, I really do. But — well — not in church. I’m sorry if that makes me a dinosaur of some kind, but it’s my opinion — and that’s all it is, an opinion — that jazz doesn’t belong in church.
They played a second jazz thing, and I couldn’t tell you what it was because I don’t remember. Was only a few hours ago and already I’ve blocked it. It included some astoundingly loud drum stuff.
[Edit to add: I should note that the jazzy things were played during communion. It’s an important detail and I apologize for leaving it out.]
My boss was accompanied by his two sons and a couple other fellows. And they’re all outstanding musicians, they really do know what they’re doing. It wasn’t that it was badly done; it wasn’t. It was carried out with skill and finesse and would have been awesome if it hadn’t been in church. I didn’t actually look around at the other folks in my immediate vicinity, but judging from the body language I was seeing in my peripheral vision and murmurings I was hearing, I wasn’t alone in wondering just what in the world was going on.
I’m praying that he doesn’t ever ask me what I thought, because I’m quite possibly the worst liar in the universe, and by that I mean I can’t do it. I’ll flush beet red, mumble and fidget and probably say something brilliant like, “Uhm, well, yeah, uh…..” They worked very hard on this music, and it means a great deal to them that people like it. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, especially someone as nice as my boss is. He really is one of the nicest people on the planet. He doesn’t deserve to get his feelings hurt, especially not by me.
I suppose I could say it wasn’t exactly what I expected, as this was my first Christmas Eve service ever. That’s the truth. Maybe I could make it sound like I hadn’t realized all Christmas Eve services were like that, even though I’m pretty sure they aren’t.
Going back to being a grumpy old lady griping about “those kids”, I’d like to point out that while I am older than my boss, it’s not by much. Maybe a year. So it’s not a generational thing.
I had thought I might track him down after the service to see if he had a key to the choir room with him so I could get my cell phone. But I didn’t dare. I knew if he saw me right after he’d be more likely to ask me what I thought, and I’m just not prepared to deal with that. I’m not sure I’m ever going to be ready. At one point during the second piece I was sitting thinking Make it stop, make it stop. And that’s just not the sort of reaction they were going for. I’m absolutely certain about that.
*sigh*
Oh, well. Maybe it’s just that I’m a philistine and never realized it.
And Yet More Facebook Buffoonery
Posted a short while ago by a person I know who’s about my age but possesses the language skills of a parakeet (I’ve posted about her before).
I think what she’s looking for is a used refrigerator, but I’m not sure.
My husband has refereed before, in soccer and softball. I’m tempted to post that, but that I’m not really looking to sell him. I figure the humor will escape her, though.
*sigh*
Still Here
Sorry so scarce. Just busy. I expect I’ve lost all five of my readers by now, so I’m probably talking to myself here. Which is fine. Most of what I post is drivel anyway.
The Christmas Musical Scramble ended the evening of the 16th, and I still haven’t gotten the Christmas cards done. Maybe tonight. And if I can get them in the mail tomorrow, they’ll be postmarked prior to the 25th. It’s the best I can do. Last year I didn’t send any. Felt guilty about it all year.
I’m a bit wigged out at the moment because I left my cell phone in the choir room at church. In the ladies’ room, specifically. I stayed after the service to put music away, as the office is going to be closed until Thursday, which means me and the woman I’m taking over from as music assistant will have exactly four hours to do an entire week’s worth of work, and that includes trying to use the printer in between the office ladies cranking out the bulletin for next Sunday’s service. What fun. You know, we used to be perfectly comfortable wandering around without cell phones. Most of my life has been spent cellphone-less. And now that I don’t have mine right to hand, I feel like I’m missing an arm. Maybe I’ll find somebody at the Christmas Eve service tomorrow with a key to the choir room (I haven’t been handed the keys yet — I think that’s happening her last day, the 31st). If not I’ll have to manage until Thursday. On the plus side nobody can call and bug me. But it just feels very, very weird.
I’ll have to bring you up to date on the critter situation, I know I said I’d do that weeks ago. Everybody’s fine, except Otis. He’s fading. Losing weight, still eating but getting thinner and thinner. We knew it was coming, but we’re dreading it anyway. He’s still just as sweet as he can be, lets me give him his insulin shots and squirt antibiotics and vitamins into his mouth. I wish, I wish his original people had taken better care of him. Why can’t people just do what they’re supposed to do?
I had an interesting conversation with my sister-in-law the other day about the jerkish brother-in-law. She cut off his Facebook newsfeed before I did so she was unaware of the event that led me to cut him off. She went back and read it, was also horrified. She’s baffled by the change in him too, although she did remind me of a few events that I had conveniently forgotten — that he was kicked out of the Navy for doing drugs, was in the brig for quite some time for that before they jettisoned him. So, maybe my memory of him being an upright fellow is faulty. Or I just didn’t want to remember that.
Gotta go see to a friend’s cats. She’s out of town and I’m critter-sitting. Cheers, y’all.
My Brother-in-Law is a Jerk
As seen on Facebook, my brother-in-law the Obama supporter and a few of his “friends.” Also me, the last commenter.
He just responded with this:
she seemed to be in good spirits when other people spoke
Apparently he can’t afford punctuation. My response:
You don’t know what’s going on with her. You judged her based on no information whatsoever and acted like a jerk. It was unnecessary. It wouldn’t have taken any more effort just to be polite. People who react the way you did are a large part of why society is such a mess. You might have acted with a little more consideration and maturity. Junior high school is over, man.
Of course it won’t matter. He’s turning into quite the little jerk. I don’t know why. He was always such a kind person. It’s a bit baffling.
Edit to add: It’s worse. Here’s the entire thing, so far, including his last comment.
So, I didn’t unfriend him but I’ve blocked his updates from my newsfeed. So that will take care of some heartburn, anyway.
His parents didn’t raise him to treat people this way. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s very disappointing. What a nasty little piece of work he’s turning out to be. And there’s no reason for it. None at all.
Jamie Foxx, Moron
I read somewhere some years back that in order to be a successful comedian, you must be highly intelligent.
Apparently Jamie Foxx is the exception to the rule. Video at the title link.
The Stupid, it burns.
Husbands Are Fun
So, this evening I had a flute quartet rehearsal that I’d forgotten about. I left a note for Hubby, he was supposed to get home around 8. I got home a bit after 9. Opened the door, asked, “What’s burning?”
Seems he was fixing himself something to eat and turned on the wrong burner on the stove. Never mind that the controls are clearly labeled, so you know which burner you’re turning on, if you’re paying attention.
He set a dishtowel on fire and melted my plastic spoon rest. Didn’t realize anything was amiss until the smoke detector went off, and then he noticed the smell.
Oh, well. At least he didn’t burn the house down. And he did apologize.
This Annoys Me
As seen on Facebook:
Apples and oranges.
Here’s the thing. That the troops are in harm’s way, voluntarily, to protect us all from the people who want us dead is a truism. I appreciate what they’re doing, perhaps in no small part because I did it myself for 20 years. I missed a lot of holidays.
How is this situation in any way changed by Wal Mart employees working on Thanksgiving? Or not working on Thanksgiving?
Hubby is working on Thanksgiving, because the offspring of Sam Walton are so fond of the almighty dollar they’ve departed from his business model to the extent that curtailing their employees’ family time is of no moment to them. They just don’t care. In this economy, they, like all employers, have the upper hand. Don’t like it? Great, find another job. And in this economy, well, that’s not happening.
The Wal Mart PTB are more concerned that some other retail business is going to undercut their revenue share. Sam Walton is spinning in his grave, has been for years.
There’s nothing any of us can do but suck it up and do what we have to. But it’s not right, and it’s not pleasant. My husband will miss Thanksgiving with his family because it’s more important to sell televisions and computers to greedy, angry people who will have no compunction about assaulting another shopper who’s about to grab the thing that they want.
And the troops will still be downrange, in harm’s way, whether he’s home or not. Oh by the way, he served for 12 years. So he’s familiar with the concept too.
That’s all. Just grousing.
We’re In the Paper!
The title link takes you to the local paper’s article about the Singing Christmas Tree. There are photos. I’m in one of them but you can’t see me very well and that’s fine with me.
Very cool.
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