I heard Christmas music today at Costco while I watched people putting pumpkins into their shopping carts. Ah, it must be fall.
In California, the leaves don’t change into beautiful reds and oranges until November. It doesn’t get cold enough until then. We have Halloween first, then fall color, sometimes coinciding with Thanksgiving, but Turkey Day will be late this year, so maybe not.
I dug through my Christmas tubs this week to find props for the chorus photo. We tenors will pose for our ad in the concert program, which we buy ourselves to tell the audience how wonderful we are. The sopranos do it, the altos do it, but not the basses. It’s a girl thing, and there are no women that sing the bass part.
Tenor Mary and I have come up with a plan. One year we did ugly Christmas sweaters, the next year we did angels, the next year was elves, and last year was the Nutcracker. I like the angels the best, and I have a dozen halos, in case you need one.
I don’t mind singing Christmas songs, as I did last night during rehearsal. We have to prepare for our upcoming concerts in December. I don’t go to church, but I do get plenty of Jesus from late August to Christmas. We are singing some solemn ones and some silly ones (no Jesus in those).
Our substitute director had us up on our feet for a good portion of the two-hour rehearsal. I could hear some of the older members grumbling. The substitute guy teaches high school. The grumblers have already celebrated their 50th or 60th high school reunions.
But I digress.
Anyway, hearing Christmas music while shopping only two days into October is just wrong, IMO. But that’s retail. I did it for six and half years with own shop. Customers actually asked for holiday items long before I was ready to display them. You have to give the customers what they want if you want to stay in business.
It’s a crisp sunny day with a cloudless blue sky. I have plans to hear a Santana band at 6:00, and I’ve arranged a carpool up the parking lot also known as I – 680. We will be able to get into the express lane (for free) since there will be two of us. It will still take a while to go north four towns, but we should get there in time.
The dogs are walked, the Costco has been shopped, the body has been exercised, the sister will be visited shortly. The payment I sent to the wrong place (the newspaper instead of the hospital – they both start with San Ramon) will not be refunded to me. My newspaper is paid up through the end of 2020. I hope it doesn’t fold before then. At least I’m doing my part (although accidentally) in keeping objective journalism alive and well.
Life is pretty good, I have to say. Yes, I’d like this or that to do or to happen, but overall, no complaints from me (aside from the political chaos which is our country). My stalker on Facebook is being an ass, so after I finish this post, I will un-friend him. Our political discussion has turned ugly, and he is preaching to me about what I should do instead of the post I shared.
Angry Facebook Dude can take a flying leap off of a short pier (is that how the expression goes?). I thought we could remain civilized while discussing our differences, but apparently not. His definition of white privilege and my definition of white privilege do not coincide (we are both white but political opposites). His last raging comments referred to reverse discrimination.
When did old white guys get so defensive? I’m an old white gal, and I am trying to explain how non-whites feel about their treatment by authority figures, etc, the whole take a knee thing, and it is lost on an angry, confrontational old white guy.
Empathy, that’s what I call it, seeing it from another person’s point of view. As Atticus Finch said (and I paraphrase), “Don’t judge somebody until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.”
So get walking, angry Facebook dude. If you would do that, it would do the whole country a lot of good.