November 5: Predicted Snowfall, Absolutely Nothing, Robert Hass, "Counterpane: Grandfather's Death," Off the Top of My Head

At around eleven that night, a predicted snowfall had come.  He and Annie looked out about midnight before pulling the plug on the tree and going to bed, and mutually agreed how peaceful and clean the streets of New York seemed in such weather.

It's a happy scene.  One of the few happy scenes in the entire book.  It's pre-Robert's death.  Pre-grieving Ives.  Pretty much, it's a scene straight out of a Bing Crosby television Christmas special.  A glowing tree.  Falling snow.  The world dark and calm.

I have survived another week of teaching.  I get to go home tonight and do anything that I want to do.  I could watch TV.  Read a book.  Fall asleep before the ten o'clock news.  The entire evening is wide open.

My weeks are fairly hectic, what with working at the medical office and teaching.  Every morning is early.  Every day is long and busy, shuttling between two jobs.  Every night is filled with school work and class prep.  Thursday nights, I allow myself to relax a little.  Of course, I still have a rambunctious seven-year-old son and a sulky teenage daughter to deal with, but that's where headphones and AccuRadio come in handy.

So, I am thankful for this time of doing absolutely nothing, giving my brain a night off after four days of running on overdrive.  My batteries need to be recharged.  After I am done typing this post, I think I will do some pleasure reading, letting go of all my current worries.  Bad brakes to fix.  Dance costumes and tuition to somehow pay for.  Papers to grade.

Saint Marty is just plain tired and grateful for good books, good music, good poetry, and, maybe, good alcohol (something strong that tastes like root beer).

Counterpane:  Grandfather's Death

by:  Robert Hass

On the pillow
the embroidered flowers
are fading
fading that patient spider
my grandmother

who made the best
of losses
bright quilts from rags
that are every bird
Audobon ever killed
in America.

Off the Top of My Head

January 17: Buddy Singer, Just One of Those Things, A Flock of '80s

She wasn't listening, though.  So I ignored her for a while.  We just danced.  God, could that dopey girl dance.  Buddy Singer and his stinking band was playing "Just One of Those Things" and even they couldn't ruin it entirely.  It's a swell song...

Holden is still hiding out at a hotel in New York in this passage.  He's in the lounge of the hotel, listening to the lousy band playing there.  He's tried to order a drink and failed the do-you-have-a-driver's-license test with the server.   Then, he turns his attention to a table of women and attempts to get them to dance with him.  He succeeds at this.

Today is Blessing Thursday.  I'm supposed to concentrate on something in my life for which I'm grateful.  Well, I can't get my broken tooth fixed until tomorrow afternoon.  My daughter came in third in her spelling bee, so no trip to the nationals this year.  My coworker refuses to let me play Christmas music on my computer, which always lightens my mood.

My plan this morning was to play music on my computer that my coworker hates so she would be driven to letting my play holiday tunes.  I tried opera, bluegrass, dubstep, and disco.  The problem is that my coworker likes all kinds of music.  She would probably even like Buddy Singer and his stinking band.

Thus, my plan has failed.  In my attempts to find the most loathsome music available on the Internet, I stumbled upon a station on AccuRadio called A Flock of '80s.  All music from the 1980s.  Genesis.  John Cougar (before he became Mellencamp).  INXS.  Eddie Grant.  Currently, I'm listening to "It's Raining Men" by the Weather Girls.  It's the best station ever.  Of course, the 1980s had the best music ever.  (Can't say as much for the fashions, although those Hammer pants were really comfortable and I looked good in them.)

This Thursday, Saint Marty gives thanks for '80s music.  Sing it with him, "Might as well face, you're ad-dic-ted to loooooove..."

Yeah, I made these look good...

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