There’s not as much “la” in my “fa lala la” as there used to be. I feel a bit like the grandma who got run over by a reindeer. Flattened.
For one thing, the Christmas season starts way too early, you know what I’m sayin’? I like to eat all the leftover Halloween candy and Thanksgiving turkey before I get the candy canes out.
By the time my halls need decking I’m over holly-ed and all out of sorts.
An artificial tree would make life easier, but I’m still a tree purist, OK, a snob. However, this year for the first time ever, we bought a pre-cut tree instead of bagging our own at Joe’s. It’s as pretty as any we’ve ever had — a nicely-shaped, skinny Fraser fir that’s not so tall that I needed the stepladder.
Our tiny incandescent lights sputtered out for good last year. I had no choice but to buy energy saving LED strings to replace them. I bought the so-called “warm white” ones, but they don’t even come close to evoking mellow candlelight. They’re tinged with that cold glow that belongs on the dashboard of a car.
I might be in a better mood if I’d had an elf to do my Christmas decorating, though I do enjoy the memories that engulf me when I open each carton. I could unwrap the ornaments and tell my elfin friend the story behind each, while she hangs them on the tree. Hm, maybe an elf to wrap presents too? I’ve never liked wrapping, and my lumpy corners and messy bows are proof that I’m supremely unsuited for the job.
I do most of my shopping on-line these days — what could be easier? — but an elf to do the research would be nice. I’d give her my list, let her sit at the computer for hours, then I would magically appear to click on the virtual shopping cart.
Besides brown paper packages tied up with string, my search for stocking stuffers, special books, and the perfect ornament for the family member whose name I drew, still number among my favorite things. My elf could have a cup of tea and a sit-down while I’m off on these errands.
Now I do like to bake. My reputation for whiskey cake and Hungarian pozynyi precedes me. But I am just about the messiest baker ever was. Flour drifts, sugar grits, eggs splatter, warming milk boils over, softening butter puddles. I use every bowl, scraper, measuring cup and spoon I own. My kitchen is frightful when I’m done. Oh, I’d still do the actual mixing and stirring and putting into the oven, but an elf to clean up after me? Delightful.
“See the blazing Yule before us…” Remember that phrase from “Deck the halls”? That’s no Yule log, that’s my oven burning off charred baking spills, probably the apple pie from Thanksgiving.
I know my “bah humbugging” must stop. I need to get over myself, change my blue mood to bright red and green. ‘Tis, after all, “…the season to be jolly…
“Fa lala la la lala la la…
la la la la lala-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!
Fa lala la la, lala la la…
la lala lalala la-a.
Oh-h-h, fa lala lala la la-a-a-a-a-