Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Random Christmas Memories 

Making sugar cookies with Mom & Lydia. My favorite shape was reindeer, my favorite decoration was those tiny silver balls. I believe these are currently classified as inedible; hell, King Arthur doesn't even sell them.

One year I received a complicated pseudo-Barbie-type mansion, with all kinds of swinging furniture and appliances. However, my parents did not realize that just that summer I'd lost interest in Barbies. I felt quite guilty about this gift, knowing it was expensive.

A photograph from Christmas Eve at Nannie's house of my mother and me both wearing large 70's style glasses. We sit on the couch near each other but not looking at each other, or at the camera. Even a casual observer could tell we are mother and daughter.

Nannie serving up those gelatin-heavy frozen "ice cream" treats that looked like Christmas trees or stars. Sometimes she'd stick a candle in them for us to blow out.

Ronda and Nannie spending HOURS wrapping gifts in the most elaborate manner. Ribbons cascaded from gumdrop sugar-frosted bows topped with Hersheys Kisses. There was always, after Christmas Eve, the inevitable sigh, a murmur about how long it took to get the gifts to look that way, as they surveyed the sea of crumpled wrapping paper. To this day, your average dog wraps gifts better than I.

Lydia and I greedy for new music were told each album under the tree, wrapped up to conceal, was a cookie sheet.

My father wrote ridiculous Christmas wish lists and posted them on the fridge. He wanted Ferraris, Cuban cigars.

My mother's fantastic Christmas dinners usually consisted of stuffed filet mignon, twice baked potatoes. Various vegetables. Almost always a different dessert. Once, a magnificent Buche de Noel.

More tomorrow!

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Return to Spiderland 

My daily dose of Pitchfork Media alerted me this morning to exciting news: Slint will be playing in Chigago March 24th, a Saturday. I feel an uncontrolable urge for a serious road trip to see the kings of post-rock whisper and screech in person. Maybe Steve Albini will be in the audience! Heck, maybe he'll sit in for a couple of numbers. I love the sinister quiet sound of this band- they sneak up on you whispering mesmerizing tales and then once you let your guard down they thwack your head with the hidden hatchet as the volume buries your cry for help. Sorry, getting kinda florid there- I just entertain myself...

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?