I was going to send out specialized Christmas cards, complete with holiday haiku tailored especially for you. Somehow, though, December got here faster than I anticipated.
Once again a year draws to a close and already I'm trying not to get excited about making any resolutions that I will not even pretend to keep.
It's finally cold enough for me to play some Christmas music -- not all, but just enough to inspire that ol' sentimental feeling Brenda Lee sang about.
Every year I discover a new Christmas song that I just love. This year it's "Purple Snowflakes" by Marvin Gaye. I have no idea how to begin describing it to you if you haven't heard it, but I love it, if only because it's a twist on the holiday music that I feel only Marvin Gaye could offer. (It also helps that there's a steady jingle bell in the background. And if you would like to hear it, IM me and I'll give it to you.)
There's one voice among the backup singers that sounds a lot like my mom's and of course I love that. She sang the other day, just playing around as she was trying to describe something. It surprised me how quickly I got goosebumps and a li'l weepy. Earlier when she first started going to speech therapy, the therapist encouraged singing as a way both to jog the memory and help with enunciating vowel sounds, etc. Mags was not even trying to be singing - she felt it made her seem like a toddler. I don't know why she stopped singing, but I suppose it's like her saying that she doesn't know why I've never really started. Anyway, every once in awhile she'll warble something for me and home girl is just holding out on all of us is all I can say about it really. Just like she claims she can't really cook (which, clearly, one look at me should silence that statement), she's still got a lot goings on.
Anyway, I'm already sick of those "Every kiss begins with Kay" commercials.
I'm also sick of Pandora trying to pass off crappy singers' renditions of all-time Christmas classics. Nobody wants to hear Hillary Duff or Ashanti nasally and crappily crooning carols. That's the worst part of the season. It goes hand-in-hand with how much I hate scraping ice off my windshield when the scraper thing squeals and causes my head to feign an internal implosion.
* * * * * * * *
Moving on, here's some holiday haiku for you:
It's holiday time
That's like crunch time for hos yo
to sweep those chimneys.
Hey! What child is this
showin' they tail in the line
to see Santa Claus?
Oh, a night divine
spent 'neath the mistletoe 'cause
all I want is you.
* * * * * * * *
You know, "it's that time of year when the world falls in love" and doesn't every song seem not just to say "Merry Christmas," but "Merry Christmas, Baby..." or sweetheart, or darling ... it really is all about love, actually, isn't it?
"As sure as snowflakes fall from the blue, I will always remember this night here with you ... and I said, Snowflakes. Pretty purple snowflakes ..."
Whatever the case, I'm passing time at work, giving myself mini writing assignments as I try to get myself together and make something of this page and more ... so I just wanted to say this, too:
palmed
one time
he held my face in his hands
so gently
his eyes measured my face
i felt
time move, eclipsing all hurts past
leaving nothing
but us -- just us two -- face to face
in love
anew.