NOTE: Even though most of this post was written on December 26, it’s now the 27th as I finish and post it. Happy third day of Christmas!

It’s December 26th in this particular time zone as of this writing, which means it’s Boxing Day, or the second day of Christmas. Tradition demands that I give Jennifer a pair of turtle doves, whatever those are, but I’m going to pass. I guess I’m just a lousy husband. Anyway, here’s a picture of one of our cats, Ingrid, wearing a Santa hat. It’s okay. She always looks this grumpy.

Aside from all the driving, the past two days have been pretty low-key. On Tuesday, Christmas Eve, Jennifer and I went down to my parents’ house to hang out with the family. We all sat around and chatted, had Chinese food for dinner and various cookies and things for dessert, then opened stocking stuffers and presents. I had drawn my sister Leona’s name in the gift draw (my parents draw names to see who we’ll be giving a gift to, instead of giving everyone a gift; I really like this tradition, because it means I can put a lot more thought into a single gift instead of trying to find something for a bunch of different people), and I gave her a nice black sweater which she’d been wanting. Her husband Mike (who wasn’t able to come to the festivities) had drawn my name, and I ended up with a copies of Wonderbook, an illustrated book on writing speculative fiction by Jeff Vandermeer that I’d really been wanting, and Existence by David Brin. My parents also gave me a three foot tall inflatable Dalek. They’re Doctor Who nerds just like me, so they know what I like. 

Yesterday, Christmas Day, we went to Jennifer’s sister’s house to spend time with her family. It, too, was a pretty low-key affair. After breakfast we opened presents, and again I ended up with some pretty cool stuff: a book on ghosts and hauntings, a DVD of The Universe from the History Channel, and a subscription to Scientific American, which makes me happy in light of my plan to writing The Neverending Symphony in 2020. It was fun hanging out with various in-laws, nephews, and nieces, and the caroling in the evening was fun as well, but by the time the day ended, Jennifer and I were both wiped, and quite ready to go home.

And now I’m back at work while Jennifer’s off shopping with her family (on the 26th, they hit the post-Christmas sales to stock up on cards, ornaments, and supplies for the next year). It’s been a slow day, customer support-wise, so I was able to spend the day focusing on some projects that I’ve been working on.  There’s hardly anyone else in the office, too, which has been nice. Not that I don’t like my co-workers, of course, it’s just that it’s nice to be able to focus on existing projects rather than on customer support emergencies.

So at this point there’s not much left to do except sit around and wait for my birthday. Once that’s over, then it’ll feel a little less like limbo around here, and a little more back to reality.

‘Tis the season for (rambling) Holidailies

First off, have an earworm. This is “Fairytale of New York” by the Pogues. It’s been in my head all morning, no matter how many other Christmas songs I listen to.

This is still one of my favorite Christmas songs, though it’s been eclipsed a bit by “The Season’s Upon Us” by Dropkick Murphys (which I linked to just the other day).

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Yesterday I got a nice card from my boss, which had been signed by him and the chairs of our department. It was very nice, and I really appreciated it. (He also was passing out candy but I skipped it because I’m still avoiding refined sugar. Yay me!)

Our office doesn’t really do much for the holidays. We have a half-day winter retreat, where we conduct work stuff and have a book exchange. In years past this has been a “white elephant” book exchange, but this year we were all asked to bring in copies of our favorite books. I brought in a copy of Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, of course, since that’s my favorite book of all time. And I ended up with a copy of Kafka on the Shore, by Haruki Murakami. I’ve never read anything by this author, but we were discussing him in our writers’ group recently, and I’m really looking forward to reading this book.

What does your office do for the holidays, if anything?

When I was growing up, my family celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. I’m not sure why, but I remember being a kid and being baffled by the kids who were excited about opening their presents on Christmas Day. “Didn’t you open them the night before?” I wanted to know. And they thought I was the weird one.

So, the entire family would gather: sometimes, both sets of grandparents, my Mom, my aunt and uncle, friends of the family, and so on. Over the years, of course, the family grew smaller and smaller. Grandparents pass away. Aunts and uncles and cousins all move to different states, and so on. Now, it’s my parents, my sisters, my sisters’ significant others, Jennifer, and my niece Erika. It’s still fun, but it doesn’t feel the same way as when I was a kid. I still miss my grandparents (though I had a nice visit with my grandpa in a dream the other night) and the overall boisterousness. Of course, I may be remembering it all wrong: it may be that those Christmases were awkward and painful, but I sincerely doubt it.

And, of course, after the family gathering we’d go to church. St. Jude’s Episcopal Church in Cupertino (and it’s good to know that they’re still there). Over time, we started going to a Presbyterian church, which was pretty different. I don’t remember any incense being swung around at the Presbyterian church, for example. I remember one Christmas, my cousin Rohan got a copy of a Klingon dictionary, and we spent the time before Christmas service trying to figure out how to say Merry Christmas in Klingon. I think the best we came up with was “Honorable Birth of the Great Captain”, but I can’t begin to pronounce that.

And that, I think, is pretty much it. I don’t remember any other big traditions from when I was a kid, aside from the pageants and plays that every Christmas-celebrating kid takes part in.

Of course, I could be remembering wrong. I guess I should talk to my parents and my sisters about this.

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Meanwhile, I did decide that I’m going to write The Neverending Symphony in 2020, the book that I whined about just a couple of days ago. This gives me six years to prepare for it, and who knows how long it will take to actually write the thing. But I’m really looking forward to it. I’m starting by doing some reading online: various articles, blogs, podcasts, and so on that I can find online. I’ve set up a blog to track my progress, and while I’ve made no pains to hide it from Google and whatnot, I’m not linking to it yet, simply because there isn’t a whole lot of content there. I will eventually, though, just as a way to keep myself accountable. I expect plenty of support and encouragement from you people. Just letting you know.

‘Tis the season for (eh, whatever) Holidailies

Feeling much better today. No asthma (yay Prednisone!). Weight loss proceeding normally (in spite of the Prednisone). Very few regrets at the moment (possibly because I’ve decided to write that silly book, The Neverending Symphony, in 2020 — more on that later). No major depression (also in spite of the Prednisone, which messes hard core with my emotional state).

So here are a few seasonal things.

Because people have asked for it, here is a picture of me with long hair and beard. It’s not a very good picture, but it’s the only one I have. It was taken — well, back in the 90s. Probably ’92 or ’93. After I graduated from college, at least. It’s seasonal, because it was shortly after Thanksgiving. My parents, little sister, and I went to a dude ranch (called, appropriately enough, “Greenhorn”), and I went riding on a horse on this day. It started out raining that morning, but by the time we came back, it had started to snow. It was pretty chilly. And this jacket that I was wearing on that day? NO FREAKING POCKETS! I have pockets in my jacket now, though. I’d learned my lesson.

When I had long hair and a full beard, my dad used to tell me that I looked like a bomb-throwing terrorist. That was mostly because I wore black, too, and had a black trench coat.

Here’s a Christmas song you should listen to, with accompanying video. It’s called “The Season’s Upon Us” and it’s by Dropkick Murphys, my favorite American Irish punk band (for proper Irish punk bands, I think the Pogues are my favorite).

Lovely song, isn’t it? Now there’s a family that loves each other.

I have no thoughts on the Elf on the Shelf (today’s Holidailies prompt). It’s supposed to be an old tradition, but I’d never heard of it until this century, and I suspect it was invented by Borders (or some similarly commercial entity) to sell those little dolls. I do think it’s kind of a creepy thing to do, though, especially if your child believes that the elf really is a spy for Santa. But I suppose I’m over-cynical about it, just like I am over-cynical about most of the materialism that surrounds the holiday (heads up: I’m working on a blog post about what Christmas means to me on a spiritual level; expect some Episcotalk soon).

Anyway. So there’s that.

Beer’s still not fermenting, which saddens me. I don’t know whether I ought to junk the wort at this point, or add more yeast. I don’t want it to taste too yeasty. I have experts I could ask. I should ask them. I’m pretty sure I pitched the yeast too early, though.

Last night Jennifer made gingerbread men. I helped by attaching eyes and noses and occasionally taking trays of cookies out of the oven for her. I’m very useful.

That’s all I got for today.

‘Tis the season for (meandering) Holidailies