♫Sunny sky, pretty day....♫
Dec. 25th, 2012 04:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogThe kids have gone off to visit both of Cameron's parents' homes for the afternoon, leaving us (and their slightly insane just-fixed cat) to chillax in the early winter sunshine. A bigass storm is promised for tomorrow, so this comes as a break on top of a break.
I'd forgotten to bring back some videos to the library, including a four-disk set of the Brideshead Revisited series that would have grown fines faster than my IRA if I'd waited until tomorrow, so I took a quick drive over to drop them off. There's a certain, special kind of peace that comes when the hustle and bustle of the world is reduced to a handful of gas stations, Chinese restaurants, and, especially, homes. This is an older neighborhood, and, thus, the place that the kids and grandkids come home to on Christmas afternoon after having their mornings someplace else.
It won't be long before that's us they're coming home to in the afternoon. To a large extent, we already are.
----
Emily's gift to me was this new collection:
It's pretty close to a scrapbook (yes, Donna)- an amalgamation of handwritten notes that Jim kept in a journal from the 50s into the second-to-last year of his life, mixed in with sketches, advertising materials, and random musings of a man this world still needs so much of even in his absence.
Muppets have always been part of our family. When a massive collection of Hensonia came out when Emily was very little-
- Eleanor and I pulled a Gift of the Magi-ish move and each tried to get it for the other for that year's Christmas. Muppet Christmas Carol has become a big part of our seasonal listening, if not watching. It's been a mixed year in Henson's remaining world- the gang returning to the big screen, but learning of another of the old-school Muppeteers passing away, and then Elmo going away for pedophilia, tempered a little of that joy later in the year. I'm thankful for the older-than-me memories contained in this new collection, and, fully mindful of all the events, local and regional, good and bad, of this year's Yuletide, I remember the words that even Scrooge himself came to sing at the conclusion of the uniquely Henson version of Dickens:
It's true wherever you find love
It feels like Christmas.
I'd forgotten to bring back some videos to the library, including a four-disk set of the Brideshead Revisited series that would have grown fines faster than my IRA if I'd waited until tomorrow, so I took a quick drive over to drop them off. There's a certain, special kind of peace that comes when the hustle and bustle of the world is reduced to a handful of gas stations, Chinese restaurants, and, especially, homes. This is an older neighborhood, and, thus, the place that the kids and grandkids come home to on Christmas afternoon after having their mornings someplace else.
It won't be long before that's us they're coming home to in the afternoon. To a large extent, we already are.
----
Emily's gift to me was this new collection:
It's pretty close to a scrapbook (yes, Donna)- an amalgamation of handwritten notes that Jim kept in a journal from the 50s into the second-to-last year of his life, mixed in with sketches, advertising materials, and random musings of a man this world still needs so much of even in his absence.
Muppets have always been part of our family. When a massive collection of Hensonia came out when Emily was very little-
- Eleanor and I pulled a Gift of the Magi-ish move and each tried to get it for the other for that year's Christmas. Muppet Christmas Carol has become a big part of our seasonal listening, if not watching. It's been a mixed year in Henson's remaining world- the gang returning to the big screen, but learning of another of the old-school Muppeteers passing away, and then Elmo going away for pedophilia, tempered a little of that joy later in the year. I'm thankful for the older-than-me memories contained in this new collection, and, fully mindful of all the events, local and regional, good and bad, of this year's Yuletide, I remember the words that even Scrooge himself came to sing at the conclusion of the uniquely Henson version of Dickens:
It's true wherever you find love
It feels like Christmas.