I’m having trouble getting into the holiday spirit. I think it is way too early, and I don’t have the staying power to get wrapped up in the holiday hoopla for an entire month.
I was thinking maybe we’d get the lights and ornaments out around the 24th and take it from there. To me, that is a reasonable amount of time for the Fa, la, la of this atheist at Christmas.
The challenge is, Christmas is commercial and no longer about religious beliefs. Plus, our street is already decked out. Neighbours have their lights up, and we can see decorated trees through their windows when we walk past. I’m starting to feel that since Ken and I didn’t participate in Halloween, we better get some lights up, pretty quick, if we don’t want to be known as the curmudgeons of Samron Rd.
It is hard to feel something you don’t. Still, if TV has taught me anything — the holiday spirit comes to those that need it the most.
So, we’ll get the box of decorations out, order the ham and start collecting crap (er… presents) to stuff into socks, hung with care. Perhaps the TV holiday movies will help move me.
My friend Jacquie has written the perfect sum up about the holiday shows that are gracing the airways this month, so I wonder if I really need to watch any of them now.
I will say that with the exception of not mentioning the miracle cancer cures of children, and one or two christmas cookies capers — Jaquie nails it.
So, with permission and the warning of a “spoiler alert” I give you…
Christmas joy as TV sees it.
By Jacqui Parker-Snedker
“Not that anyone I know watches these things- but. The latest round of Christmas movies; single woman, divorcee, widow, returns to Middle America, middle of town, Middle Earth, with child, dog, Mum, to stay in old Lodge (being reclaimed by the bank), old family home (being reclaimed by the bank), old chocolate factory (being reclaimed by the bank). Meets handsome but slightly evasive (for reasons we learn about as this drek unfolds), who is the town reporter, handyman or reindeer herder who in the end turn out to be the son of Santa. The couple of this romantic (slightly) comedic opus by turns face each other, retreat, resolve, break apart, fight, briefly write a truce because of problems with the child, dog, mother. Only to have, five minutes before the end (and I’m on my knees on the carpet pleading for mercy) a major misunderstanding- he’s been seen with;(an out of town female reporter- who is in fact his sister but seems incapable of saying so), an actual wrench in his hand (he finally has a piece of work to do) or is caught with a sleigh that he ruefully admits is Santa’s (Dad’s, he says with a shrug). The child, dog, Mum run towards his open arms- single woman, divorcee, widow explodes in fury claiming he is misleading her child, dog, Mum and storms out. At this point I excuse myself to go anywhere else in the house, to make a sandwich, sleep for 5 minutes, have a reviving shower) to return to the living room to find everyone in each other’s arms (how’s that happen?) and watching Santa lifting off for the long journey into night.
Come on Polar Express.