The great thing about living in a college town...

...is that there are so many creative people.

CHRISTMAS CAROL TORTURE

Every office I’ve ever worked in has at least one perky lady who owns a little fuzzy pet, wears sparkly earrings, and knows everybody’s birthday.  When the calendar reaches the middle of November (and especially if we’re blessed with snow at the same time), Miss Perky gets all excited to hear all Christmas music all the time.  She even has a stack of CD’s in her car so she can hear fourteen different versions of The Little Drummer Boy.  Every office has one. 

The office radio is turned to an all Christmas music station as soon as we are back from Thanksgiving and we all get to listen to hour after hour of the following playlist:

Holly Jolly Christmas—Burl Ives (Oh, by golly have a holly jolly CHRISTMAS –mm-this YEAR.)

I’ll Be Home for Christmas—Bing Crosby (…if oooownleee in myeee DUH reems)

Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree—Brenda Lee (in a new—old—fashuned WAY!---b’dawr b’dawr b’dawr!)

Merry Christmas Darling-- Karen Carpenter (I’m Christmasing with yeeeeooooo).

Chestnuts Roasting—Frank Sinatra

Some peppy orchestra rendition of Sugar Plum Fairies

Blue Christmas—(you guessed it) Elvis (ah-ll h-ave uh-h blahloo Christmas)

Silver Bells -- Johnny Mathis (It’s Christmas tiiiiiyeeeem in the city)

Carol of the Bells—Manheim Steamroller (just shoot me!)

Sleigh Ride by another energetic orchestra with that trumpet whinny

Away in a Manger—John Denver (Nooooooo!)

Feliz Navidad—Jose Feliciano (from the bottom of my haaAhaart)

And don’t forget Santa Baby by Madonna.  

Actually, I kinda like that one (…an out-of-space convertible too, light blue, I’ll wait up for you, dear …think of all the fun I’ve missed! Boo doo bee doo!)

When they’ve all played; they play again.  Then I go out in the parking lot and hear them AGAIN.  And just in case I've forgotten in the short drive to the gas station more Christmas music is coming from loud speakers there.  And in every-single-store more Christmas music.

It tends to make me cranky.  Thank heavens I have this blog where I can vent.  It saves a lot of money on therapy.

Did you hear about the lady who died while ice fishing?  She was run over by the Zamboni machine.

Why do the three wise men wear fireman hats?  Because they came from afar.

GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK

It always sat on a shelf in the corner and marked the passage of time.

When Grandma put me to bed on her couch in the living room 

with the crocheted pillows and a patchwork quilt...

…I would lie awake in the dim light and listen to its steady ticking.

Grandma and Grandpa were often my babysitters

 …so I was there when the clock was opened for its weekly winding

 …with the big brass key.

 

Even then the hourly chiming was erratic.

 

Grandma said it rang twenty times when Uncle Ralph came home after his tour of duty in the South Pacific.

When Grandma and Grandpa died the clock went to Uncle Ralph.  When he was gone it ended up at my younger brother’s house.  He had no recollection of its history so he passed it on to me.   By then the hands were broken and the gears wouldn’t move.

After my mom was gone I took it to a clock smith for repair.

 

He replaced the hands and got it to keep time, but he never could get it to strike the correct number on the hour. 

Now when the minute hand nears the twelve, the gears grind and it clangs out some random number and returns to its muffled tick-tock.

At some earlier time the original pendulum was replaced by another that’s a little oversized. 

The clock has to sit slightly off the level to keep the pendulum from hitting the glass door.

The top of our old piano is warped just enough to accommodate the problem.

My cousin told me Grandpa bought the clock to celebrate the birth of his first son

 in December of 1907.  That makes it over one hundred years old.  

So I’ll forgive it for not being precise about the hour.