Posted By admin on December 22, 2012
Are you enjoying your holidays? We’ve been a bit quiet around here. After the beloved and I got over our flu, the girl got a cold, and then the beloved strained his back. So–just hanging about the abode. Doing a little work, but…
(That was a segue to my list of guilty pleasures. Some are sort of weird, so brace yourself!)
One I’ve already confessed–Elf. There’s something about Will Farrell’s joy. I’ve been feeling in need of joy.
Revenge. My girl heard about it from a friend. We’ve been watching on Netflix while she endures her cold. (If she’s shared those germs, I’m going to be pretty sorry at sharing my bed, my TV, and my lovely Cool Touch tissue!) We’re hooked, halfway through the first season!
Next–Christmas in Connecticut. I’m always a little appalled at the way Barbara Stanwyck goes for Dennis Someone (One of the acting tenors from back then. I wish I liked him more.) The truth is, I love Reginald Gardiner’s voice, so even though he’s characterized as a cheap blowhard-y kind of guy, I like him better. And Sydney Greenstreet is in it. He, alone, is worth the price of admission. (This is actually a holiday favorite for me.)
Chocolate covered cherries. I love them all seasons of the year, but I can’t be trusted around them so I only buy them at the holidays. They wouldn’t be such a guilty pleasure, except I only like the really cheap ones, the ones with the cordial that’s so thick it’s like liquid sugar. (If only that kind came in dark chocolate!)
The coldest day of the year so far being the winter solstice. I know I’m the only person in this hemisphere who isn’t whooping for joy that the days will now grow longer. With my constant battle against summer’s arrival, I can’t rejoice, so I’m really pleased at such a chilly day. I did notice I was the only person in short sleeves and flip flops at Walmart today. What is wrong with people around here? 40 bazillion southerners packed in their parkas inside a Walmart!
And that brings me to my final and strange guilty pleasure. I’ve been missing my parents. My father died when I was 13. My mother died a few years ago. I won’t dive into intimate details, but I think when you lose folks and the relationships are not tickety-boo, sometimes, the grieving is a complex process. You never get to know the whys. You never get the peace. I had that with my grandmothers and my mother-in-law. I loved them. They loved me. I miss them–so much–but I’m not looking for answers–that I’d still like from my own parents. So–there are times when I miss my mother and father more than I can say, when I look back and remember things so “hard” that it’s as if I’m reliving that moment.
We had a 9 o’clock bedtime when I was little. Really little. We lived in a house built in the mid-1800s, so the rooms were not off a hall. My bedroom was two rooms away from the family room where the TV was, but often, I’d go to sleep listening to the sounds of whatever my parents were watching on TV. For years, I didn’t know what this one series’ music was, but this past summer, a channel ran a marathon of Mannix, and that music took me back to those moments–lying in my bed, sometimes with the last of the sun creeping through my window, sometimes, in pitch darkness, under a slab of blankets on a winter night in a house with no central heating. And I heard that music, and sirens, and car chases. And I miss my mom and dad and those comforting sounds.
During my shut-in days lately, I’ve been watching my own Mannix marathon and remembering my parents. (It’s kind of a violent show, but fortunately, no blood, and Mannix is a lone, noble hero.) It’s weird, but I wonder if it’ll become a holiday tradition!