Is Kelly Lucky Or What (Especially At Christmas)

We were married on New Year’s Day, a Monday, a new beginning in many ways. Since then, I’ve described myself as the luckiest man on earth, and that remains true.

 

I am lucky to have Kelly, but here’s a modest reminder of how lucky she is to have me, a man who likes having someone to do things for.

 

 

One night, after a long day of shopping the flea markets, she set up this lovely display of her plates on our bedroom wall. She was unhappy to leave “a hole” where one more plate should go, but she was nearly falling over for want of sleep. I’ve lived with her long enough to know that once she gets to that point, she is useless for anything but sleep. As I tucked her in, she whispered, “If you loved me you would put up one more plate….” And then she was out.

I figured it couldn’t be that hard. Kelly had put up 11 plates already, and only broke two, so I could probably manage. But she was out of plates, and out of the wire racks to hang one with. So I did the next best thing, what any man in love would do to prove his devotion. I went downstairs to the cupboard and found the exactly right shaped and patterned paper plate to fill in for the time being, until we could make another trip to the thrift stores.

 

When Kelly awoke the next morning, she noticed the plate first thing, and showered me with affection. She was so excited, so pleased, that she took photos to share with her friends in Blogland. She is still so happy with my act of kindness, these many months later, that she refuses my offer to put up a real plate in place of the paper one. She's sentimental that way.

 

While installing Christmas decorations a few weeks ago, we found a small pink tree that our daughter Carrie left behind. With her permission, I set it up for Kelly in our sitting room, because I know she loves pink Christmas trees and I know how much she loves the twinkle lights. Few things bring Kelly as much joy as sock monkeys, so I thought “what better for this little tree than her favorite sock monkey,” this pink little guy with the big smile. Kelly came in and saw the tree, then saw the toy on top, and she squealed with delight. More kisses came my way, I’ll tell you that.

 

Kelly’s new favorite place to sit is right under this tree, with the monkey man watching. While there has been talk of having to take down all the trees and decorations in the rest of the house here in a couple of days, she has not mentioned taking down the pink tree. It just means too much to her. She's sentimental that way.

 

On the porch, we have a white tree, another flea market find, which Kelly says she has always wanted. The ornaments are all pretty, but they are plastic, because they are exposed to the sun and wind and rain. The topper on this tree, a colorful keepsake from one of our many trips to Wendy’s, a family favorite, has become a tradition for us, and a reminder of what really matters.

 

This disposable display is highlighted by a used paper cup. The neighbors might call it trash, but to us it represents the true meaning of holiday celebrations. Ultimately, everything we have is disposable, and all the gifts and foods and trappings of Christmas mean little. Some people may have a perfect Martha Stewart magazine-cover Christmas, but neglect each other. What matters, what really lasts, is our family, each person, each individual. The love and kindness that we share, the bonds we form that will never be broken, that is what Christmas really means, and the humble little tree on our humble little porch helps us to never forget.

 

Here, Aubrey shows that she has learned the lesson, too. Awwww….

 

So I ask you. Is Kelly lucky or what?

Enough Already With The Ancient Christmas Carols

 

One drudgery of Christmas season – which, as you know, is much, much too long, starting in mid-October – is the tired old Christmas carols the stores insist on playing. Perhaps they assume it makes people more, what, festive, to hear those sleigh bells in the snow, but mostly it just annoys people.

We need some new Christmas music, not just more tedious remakes by whatever singers happen to be popular today.

Every year I try to buy one or two Christmas CDs, or downloads the past two years, hopeful that the new recordings will make a difference, but generally they do not. This year was an exception, as I came across some pretty good music, and added two songs to my favorites list.

First was Christmas Cello by Steven Sharp Nelson, aka one of The Piano Guys. The entire set is wonderful, perfect for decorating the tree, as we did (at least one of our trees), or for just having as background while reading, or talking, or doing dishes. My favorite is Simple Gifts, which is simply beautiful.

Next was Christmas Island by the one and only LeonRedbone. The title track is excellent, but my favorite, barely beating out That Old Christmas Moon, is Christmas Ball Blues. Great for dancing in the kitchen with the one you love, and if you ender up under the mistletoe, even better.

So here’s my updated list of Five Favorite Christmas Songs, with a tie for the bottom spot:

 

1. Merry Christmas Baby, Elvis Presley (another great one for dancing in the kitchen, when the kids aren’t home)
2. You’re All I Want For Christmas, Brook Benton
3. Baby, It’s Cold Outside, Brian Setzer and Ann-Margret (although the Ann-Margret Al Hirt version is much more sensual)
   
4. Christmas Ball Blues, Leon Redbone
5. Christmas Wish, She & Him
   Simple Gifts, Steven Sharp Nelson

What are your favorites?

You Gotta Love A Good Movie, Which Is Why I Don’t Love The Breaking Dawn Saga

 

Last year, the girls dragged me out in the middle of the night for the opening of the new people turning into dogs movie, Breaking Wind. No, wait, that’s not right. Breaking Dawn. Sorry.

This year, Grace saw it with college friends, and Libby was out of town with her dad, so Aubrey and I went to see Dogs Into People, Part 2, just the two of us. This one was a better movie than the Part 1, but that’s like saying shooting yourself in the foot is better than shooting yourself in both feet.

 

When Libby came back, it turned out that she hadn’t seen the movie, like I thought she said she would, so she and Aubrey and I went back to the theater. Only Aubrey was excited about a second viewing. It was fun being with the girls, especially going out for doughnuts after, but I’m glad this is the last of the Twilight movies.

 

 

 

In the past two years, I’ve seen Breaking Dawn 1, Breaking Dawn 2 twice, and The Lorax (read about it here). So I’m not a big movie goer. Perhaps the reason is that the movies just don’t move me like they used to.

 

 

Years ago, I went with a buddy to see one of the Rocky movies, where Stalone fought the Russian. We were the last two people seated, back row, middle. The movie progressed like all the other Rocky movies, and everyone was caught up in the excitement when Rocky began his inevitable comeback. But no one more so than my friend, who, when Rocky finally delivered the telling blow, leaped to his feet, shook his fist at the screen and screamed, “Take that, you Commie fag.”

 

You gotta love a good movie.

Kelly Is Going To Kill Me When She Wakes Up In The Morning

 

I couldn't help myself, her pie is that good.

Scarfing Up The Hunger Games

 

I bought and downloaded Mockingjay: The Final Book of The Hunger Games, from Audible last night. If you knew me, you would be shocked. I am a slow shopper. I was the last person in America to buy a VCR. I was the next to last person to get a CD player, because I researched and compared for years. I still wouldn’t have an iPod had Kelly not given me her old one.

 

 

 

It took six months for me to decide to buy The Hunger Games, despite my daughter Grace telling me over and over that I would enjoy it. And sure enough, I liked it, and I mean a lot. It is a wonderful and compelling story, well told. I listened to it twice, in fact, and it is better the second time.

That doesn’t mean, however, that I rushed right out and bought Catching Fire, the second book in the trilogy. It took me 182 days to convince myself to do it, because it so often happens that sequels, those sloppy seconds, are inferior to the original. Grace assured me that was not the case, but still I waited. I didn’t see how the story could continue any other way than the obvious one, so I didn’t want to waste a credit on it.

 

 

 

Man, I’m sorry I waited. Catching Fire is fantastic, simply wonderful in every way. The progression from the first book is perfectly logical, once you see it, but totally unexpected. The character development continues, and we know them well enough to know what to expect, but also enough to accept the unexpected as believable. And once the big shock came, I was well and truly shocked, and stayed shocked right to the end. I still can’t believe it on one hand, but on the other hand  I say “of course, of course.” But, you know… wow! Kudos to author Suzanne Collins.

Once started, I had a hard time not listening to book two. I had the headphones on everywhere, all the time, even when I should have been sleeping. Catching Fire is completely satisfying. Except for the cliffhanger ending that demands that you rush out and buy Mockingjay.

Which I did yesterday. But you already knew that, didn’t you.

Another Problem With America: We Confuse Popular With Good

 

I don’t Google. Partly because Google is so pervasive, taking over most aspects of life online, but mostly because Google is not a verb.

I use a search engine called Swagbucks, which rewards users with Swagbucks (duh!) that can be saved up and used to buy stuff, everything from a computer wallpaper of Cage The Elephant (just 5 Swagbucks) to a new scale for the bathroom (6,795 Swagbucks) or full drum kit, with cymbals (37,825). All I ever buy are $5 Amazon gift cards for 450 Swagbucks.

 

Anyway, one way to earn Swagbucks is by answering the daily poll. One recent poll asked:

Which of these decades had the best music?

The results, I'm sad to say, are in the above chart.

What this means is, either it was opposite day when this survey appeared, or it was Moron Day, and 81 percent of these people have been nominated grand marshal of the parade.

As anyone older than 14 knows, the only truly great decade for music was the 1960s, starting with the Everly Brothers, Cathy’s Clown, through the Beach Boys, Good Vibrations, and Aretha Franklin, Respect, to Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bad Moon Rising.

The last half of the 1950s was good, what with Elvis and Chuck Berry and Ricky Nelson and Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis and Buddy Holly, et al, but the first half was pretty lame. Patty Page, The Tennessee Waltz? C’mon.

Dozens of songs like Unchained Melody and Stand By Me and Hey Jude have proven that they will still be listened to and appreciated 50 years later. You just can’t say that about Lady Ga Ga and Justin Bieber. Does anyone even remember the Thompson Twins?

Okay, Okay, Some Cupcakes May Be Worth Four Bucks

 

You would never know from looking at her, but my wife, Kelly, is domestic. Undeniably. She loves to cook and knit and sew, she has all the right tools, the exactly right table cloth for every occasion, all that kind of stuff. But her favorite is baking. Using her own recipes or published recipes that she modifies, she produces wonderful, tasty delights.

For example, for a social event at her work tonight, she made eight dozen cupcakes. Only about 10 people are coming, but Kelly couldn’t decide what flavor to make, so she made three: her famous snickerdoodle cupcakes, a modified recipe for lime cupcakes (I am eating one now), and a modified recipe for Nutella cupcakes.

 

As you know, I often rant about high-priced specialty treats, like cupcakes, but her lime cupcakes, sprinkled lightly with salt, are superb. As good as they are, though, they come in far behind these Nutella cupcakes, which are easily worth four dollars. Perfect texture, perfect flavor, perfect taste. Just perfect.

 

 

Why not join me in hoping there are leftovers....

Liverpool Legends (Another Living Legend That Will Live Long After Lots Of Other Living Legends Have Died)

 

 

Kelly and I have seen the Liverpool Legends three times, and we both agree that their show is excellent. If the Beatles would have had modern concert equipment, this is what they would have sounded like live.

 

What makes them stand out from other Beatles tribute groups is the presence of Louise Harrison, George’s sister. She put the group together, and often sits on stage during intermission answering questions.

 

If you get the chance to see them, either in Branson or as they tour, take it.

 

 

 

That's right - Paul, John, George, Ringo, together again.

* I stole the "Living legends..." line in the title from Eric Idle in The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash.

Head(phones) In The Cloud

I resisted the Amazon Cloud Player. Somehow it seemed risky having music I paid good money for just floating around out there in the ether, but I realized that I don’t know how my computer or my phone work either, digitally speaking, so the music on them is just as mysterious and far away.

Now I can’t get enough of it. The downloads are shockingly fast. I’ve had no trouble with the player, and no problem streaming the audio. It’s been perfect. Plus, all the MP3 music I ever downloaded from Amazon transferred right back up to the cloud, poof, one click, no questions asked.

Listening to it now, I have the music listed by song title, rather than by album or artist, so I could hear all 414 songs in alphabetical order, were I so inclined. Cool.

Not counting 20 Years by The Civil Wars, I have All Of Me (The Piano Guys), All The Roadrunning (Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris), All Summer Long (The Beach Boys), American Girl (Tom Petty), An Empty Cup And A Broken Date (Buddy Holly), And I Love Her (Paul McCartney Unplugged), Angel (Simply Red), Angelina (Bacon Brothers), Another Guitar (The Rainmakers), and Anywhere Anytime (Sara Melson).

And that’s just the As….

A Picture Is Worth What, Now, Exactly?

Doing some research on our car, I came across this ad for an aftermarket radio. What do you make of it?

Picture is for illustration purposes only.

Move Over, Dickens, Seuss, And O’Henry, There’s A New Holiday Classic In Town

 

If they can put Christmas decorations in the stores in September, then surely it isn’t too early to recommend a Christmas book. Christopher Moore's The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror is an original, a great read, imaginative and funny.

 

The story begins in sunny, warm California, the traditional setting for Christmas action. A little boy, shortcutting home through a stand of pine trees, sees an unhappy wife smack her husband, dressed as Santa, in the head with a shovel. Afraid to tell anyone, and afraid that Christmas is ruined, the boy is visited by the Archangel Raziel, sent to Earth following a string of botched assignments.

 

That’s enough set up. You will want to read it straight through, it is that good. I guarantee you will laugh, too. Ho ho ho.


Note: I just learned that The Stupidest Angel is available as a Kindle book for $1.99. Now there's a deal.

Six Degrees Of Norwood

 

I like Kevin Bacon, Kevin Norwood Bacon, as an actor and now as a musician.

Mr. Bacon first crossed my path 30-some years ago when he played Tim on The Guiding Light. What I was doing watching The Guiding Light, I don’t know, but I remember Roger the bad guy, and I remember Kevin Bacon. Like you, I’ve seen him in many movies, notably Diner, Footloose, He Said She Said, AFew Good Men, and Apollo 13.

Searching for a movie to watch one night, I came across a link to the Bacon Brothers, which turned out to be Kevin and his brother, Michael. Doubtful, assuming here was yet another bored, pampered actor trying to cash in on his name, I went to YouTube for a looksee.

First, they are pretty good guitar players. Michael is a legitimate, long-time musician, well-known for scoring movies and television. They’ve played together professionally since 1995 and have released a half dozen or so albums. Their band is solid, and the tunes tend to stick in my head.

Both brothers are good singers, who harmonize well, but I like the edgy passion Kevin brings to his sound. Kevin is also the more prolific song writer. His lyrics are compelling, surprising, authentic, and, dare I say it, at times profound.

Photo from SmokeStackLightning

With a gift card from my mother-in-law, I purchased Philadelphia Road - The Best Of The Bacon Brothers, and it has made me want the entire catalogue.

Check them out on YouTube, or go to Amazon and listen to some samples. I suggest starting with Unhappy Birthday, Old Guitars, Guess Again (my favorite), Only A Good Woman, and Angelina.

This just in: Daryl Hall of Hall and Oats has a great show called Live From Daryl’s House, where he and his band have guest artists over to  his place for food and music. The Bacon Brothers episode is great fun, but check for some of your favorites, too, including the Plain White Ts.

That should give you plenty to do this weekend.

Van Gogh Has Nothing On Us

Aubrey and Libby are the Self Portrait Queens, as is clear from their Facebook pages. However, looking for photos to support and illustrate this theory, I found plenty of evidence that they are not alone. It appears the skill or the need is in their genes….

Lydia and Sadie

Jessica and Sadie

Me and Uncle Dan

That's baby Lucy, long, long ago....