December 27: We Need a Little Christmas, Joy to the World, Have Yourself a Merry...

This morning, we take down the Christmas decorations at work.  It’s one of my least favorite days of the holiday season.  It’s too early to do it, but, as I explained last night, I have to stow away the holly and ivy before I go on vacation next week.  Officially, Christmas doesn’t end for me until after New Year’s Day.  I understand the impulse to pull down the garland.  I don’t like it, but I understand it.  Pretty soon, Christmas trees will start appearing on snow banks up and down my street.  They will have scraps of tinsel clinging to their needles and will look like cast-offs from A Charlie Brown Christmas.  

Some people are ready to tear down their Christmas finery on December 26.  My coworker in the medical office was going home last night to do just that, even though she has three children under the age of five who were dead set against the plan.  I’m still playing carols on my desk computer and have presents to deliver to some friends.  Christmas is alive in my heart.  (Remember, I’m the guy who just spent a year writing about A Christmas Carol.  I can’t get Ebenezer Scrooge et al. out of my bloodstream that quickly.)  So, for the humbuggers out there, I apologize if my sustained holiday spirit annoys you.

Today is Blessing Thursday, the day where I reflect upon some person or thing that brings joy into my life.  The blessing I’m going to speak about is the Christmas music I listen to at work.  I’ve had AccuRadio going 24-7 since before Thanksgiving.  (I know you’re thinking, “His poor coworkers.”  They don’t mind.  At least, I don’t think they do.  They know I’m the insane Carol fanatic, so they give me a lot of space.)  I leave it on when I leave at the end of the day because I like being greeted with a Christmas song when I arrive in the morning.  It’s comforting, like a glass of hot chocolate spiked with Bailey’s Irish Cream.  Since I can’t have the latter at the office, I will take the former.

It’s not like I play the same songs over and over and over and over.  I switch up the stations.  Sometimes, I play classical Christmas music.  Other times, it’s Broadway Christmas.  (By the way, the musical version of A Christmas Story has some killer numbers.)  Yesterday, I was feeling a little nostalgic, so it was An Old Fashioned Christmas all day.  Bing Crosby, Judy Garland, Andy Williams, and Rosemary Clooney.  The stuff my mother played while I was growing up.

I’m going to need a lot of Christmas music to get through this day of undecorating.  A couple of the ladies in the office are going to help me, but I can feel the Spirit of Christmas Put-This-Crap-Away breathing down my neck.  It’s not going to be pretty.

Saint Marty might be hitting the chocolate drawer a lot today. 

My favorite display this Christmas

February 23: The Chocolate Drawer



The chocolate drawer

It's been a chocolate drawer kind of day.  It is almost 5 p.m., and I have just enough time to write that I don't have time to write today.  Yesterday, cake was my solace.  Today, I visited the chocolate drawer in our office about 4,291 times.  During those visits, I consumed about 53 mini Hershey bars, 231 Reese's peanut butter eggs, and 237 Butterfingers.  According to my calculations, I have to run approximately 568 miles (basically from my house to Detroit) to work off those candy bars.
My coworker was off today because her spouse had surgery.  Please send good thoughts/prayers their way.  So I was the only game in town, and it was quite busy.  On top of my work in the business office, I had to give a mid-term exam to my Good Books class at the university.

My work, for the moment, is now all done, and I have a few minutes to reflect on how busy I've been.  But it isn't over completely.  I have choir practice and band practice at church tonight.  Then I have to help my daughter with some homework.  (Oh, by the way, I just found out my daughter may have impetigo on her face.  That was worth a couple Hershey kisses from the drawer.)

Now, if I were I real saint, I would find something wonderful in all this crap.  Maybe I would say a prayer over the chocolate drawer, multiply the dark Milky Ways, and feed a small, East European country with them.  However, I don't feel like sharing my chocolate today.

Saint Marty is tired.  Saint Marty is bloated.  Saint Marty isn't giving thanks today.  Saint Marty is eying up another peanut butter egg at the moment.