Spent a big chunk of the afternoon watching Spinner and the rest of the San Diego Men’s Chorus perform some numbers from tomorrow’s Christmas concert. For the second year in a row they were combining the concert with an outreach effort for San Diego students interested in the performing arts. This year the event was at the Balboa Theater in the Gaslamp, as is Saturday’s concert.

While the school kids definitely seemed to be enjoying SDMC’s music, the big cheering was definitely for American Idol finalist Paris Bennett, who is guest starring with the Chorus this season. No, I don’t watch American Idol, and have to admit I couldn’t have picked her out of a crowd before today, but she definitely knew how to work the crowd and was a blast to watch. And yes, we met her after the show, and she and her Mom are just as wonderful in person. I just threw that last one in there for Micky, my favorite American Idol fan. There are benefits from being married to America’s favorite second tenor.

Curious reading about the Montgomery County, Maryland, ban on the early sale of Christmas trees. Not the reasons, but the drafting issues. The sale of “Christmas trees” before December 5 (or after December 25) is clearly not allowed under their Zoning Code. But reading their silly code, my first question is what is a Christmas tree? Everything from a scrawny little Charlie Brown tree to the ginormous tree down at the Mall that’s pine or near-pine? What about the little Christmas tree in my snow globe? What if I label my cut pine tree as commemorating Hannukah or Pearl Harbor Day? Can I try to market to a niche audience and offer to sell cut pine trees to people celebrating National Fritters Day on December 2, or would that be infringing on the sacred and probably trademarked tradition of using cut pine trees to commemorate the birth of the Savior?

I guess my point here is why is this any government’s business, period? Is there a growing season where they’re too small to be taken from the wilds, like trout? Do they emit a killer-pollen if cut in the warmer seasons? Or did someone just get pissy about early decorations and pass an irrational and poorly worded law?

Back to enjoying life now that the first of the month and the accompanying Business/bookkeeping obligations are complete for the month. I have twenty-something days to do what I like to do, with the added advantage of it being a holiday month. There’s a little trial up the coast at mid-month, hopefully with a little accompanying surf time. Christmas is looking good, as is New Years with the Penguin Plunge and maybe a mini roadtrip around the same time. I have an appointment with a personal trainer on Friday, and am thinking more and more about getting into some kind of organized swim program after the first of the year. Solo practice rocks, but I need to get out of the house more. Not just the sanity, but I need to be shaking hands if I want to stay in solo practice. As much as I grumble here sometimes, there are many less pleasant possibilities.

Every last scrap of holiday cheer has now been safely ensconsed in the storage unit.  No more clitter-clatter of reindeer feet.  No more swirling blizzards accompanied by tinny Christmas carols.  And no more jolly elves.  At least until next year.

Maybe I didn’t recycle all the wrapping paper we used this year.  I know I didn’t compost the egg shells from the cookies I baked.  I probably should have hunted down boxes that used recycled paper or used gift bags made from organically raised plants.  At the very least I could have sent cards printed with environmentally-friendly soy-based ink. 

But even as pathetically ungreen as I may be, I know better than to stick the fake Christmas tree (pre-lit!) in the special dumpster at the park for Christmas tree recycling.  Not so for one of our neighbors.  Sometimes you just have to wonder.

Can’t move.  I keep pushing the nurse’s buzzer but all that happens is the channel changes.  I’ve been in and out of a food coma for two days and while I keep waiting for someone to be merciful and pull my plug, the white light is just the little bulb in the back of the fridge.

Good Santas.

Bad Santas.

Who knew that even the jolly elf had evil twins? 

It was also interesting to note that while the Times reported on one woman’s request for “a new cellphone and Shaquille O’Neal under the tree”, they didn’t say what, if anything, Santa was going to bring her for wanting to get a little naughty.  Since hopefully it’s acts and not thoughts that matter, I guess that’s an issue for Santa to take up next year.

Not just gingerbread men, but California gingerbread men.  Soft and doughy won’t cut it, even in the winter months. 
Time to get those little bodies firmed up and properly browned.  Even the appetizers have to be looking good for the big day.  We’ll be having none of that pasty ‘white christmas’ nonsense in these parts. 

Two conference calls.  Nine rethuglicans debating from Iowa.  And I was still able to knock out eight trays of Christmas cookies.  Six snowmen, twelve christmas trees and twenty stars, for those who are counting.  Who needs elves? 

Enduring the letdown of being back at work after a wonderful but exhausting weekend.  Loving the new camera, even if the learning curve is the equivalent of jumping from Windows 3.1 straight to Vista.  Silly me, I thought that staying in the same product line would make things simple.  Simpler perhaps, but not simple.  Went to a great concert Sunday and in addition to the Christmas holiday music got the ego rush of seeing some of my photographs in print (for their program) and getting a special mention for the project.  I appreciate the shout-out, but I’m glad I was behind the camera, and very glad I wasn’t one of the singers wearing a Santa hat and a tux around Balboa Park during September’s heat wave.  But the goodness is over. 

Today’s all about being the Grinch.  By necessity it’s a Business of Law™ Monday.  Apparently asking past-due clients to pay their bills during the Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas-Valentine’s season is un-American.  It’s the moral equivalent of knocking down the Salvation Army Santa and running away with both the bell and the pot.  Screw ‘em.  Chuckie’s got gifts of his own to buy.