It's supposed to rain today. This would be amazing in that I can't remember the last time it truly, really rained. A real, coming-down, pouring-down, soak-the-ground rain. It's been so long that it's as if I remember it from watching a movie about rain. Maybe a movie where you could smell the rain, too, because I do remember that.
I got a comment yesterday on my bitchy post and it made me feel as if I had fiberglass particles in my britches. Or maybe socks. I don't know. It was an odd comment I thought, and I couldn't quite figure out what it meant except for the part wherein I was instructed to take a breath and remember that Christmas is not about ME.
Well. We can be certain I am aware of THAT. Did I not call it an alien celebratory ritual? Alien being the key word there. I could go into thirty or forty thousand words about why Christmas is so disturbing to me but many of you have already read whatever it might be that I have to say about that and besides, this is my little forty acres and a mule here at blessourhearts and the thing I hate most about Christmas is that feeling of trying to fake it when every part of me hates it and I ain't gonna fake it here.
So la-di-dah. I think if you spoke to my kids, they'd tell you that when they were little, I did a bang-up job of it and they loved Christmas and by golly, I did it all from making cookies to decorate the tree with to the Christmas Eve rituals to the homemade gifts as well as the store bought. I did it! I sang freaking Christmas carols!
And now they can do it. Because, no, it is not about me. Thank-you very much.
Speaking of Christmas, I have gotten myself into doing sound effects for the Christmas radio theater at the Opera House again this year and I am stressing out over that. I, quite frankly, suck at doing the sound effects. I space out and don't do them and also, the performances are coming up real fast and I haven't figured out yet how to do all of them should I actually not space out and we try to keep them authentic as to the era in which the radio shows were originally performed and also, visually interesting and that's just asking a lot from this old woman. But truthfully, it is always a sort of blessing just to be in the Opera House, especially on that stage. There is something entirely magical about it. So in this case, I AM faking it and am going to do my best to make it, too, as best as I can. In fact, my entire job as a Foley artist is to fake it which is sort of funny when you think about it. It does get serious at times though. Kathleen and I have both injured ourselves doing sound effects but that's simply due to our own clumsiness or whatever and my foot, which I injured trying to create the sound of a car wreck by kicking a trashcan, hardly ever hurts me any more and it's only been three or four years.
So see? I AM doing my part for Christmas and I just took the trash down to the trash place and people are leaving all sorts of old Christmas decorations which the attendants are using to spruce up the place with holiday cheer and for some reason, that DOES cheer me up. Nothing says Christmas Joy like old abandoned plastic snowmen sitting around the trash depot between the recycle and household garbage. And if you know me, you may realize that no, I am not being sarcastic here.
It sort of did actually cheer me up.
And a man who had obviously just cleaned out his garage offered me a cat carrier he no longer has use for and I politely said, "Oh, god, no but thank-you!" and I meant that too.
I don't think it's going to rain. I think it's just going to be gray and heavy and the whole system is going to pass to the north of us.
Well, sigh and sigh again.
I'm going to go take a walk and try to figure out how to make the sound of a running car engine for our production of It's A Wonderful Life. We've got the bells thing down pat and yes, darling little Zuzu, every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.
Oh Lord help me.