It’s that time of year again Charlie Brown. I mean, “Can somebody tell me what Christmas is all about?” Well, I know what it is not about. It is certainly not about listening to the same old, same old music. The stuff you hear everywhere? On the radio? In the mall? At your company’s Christmas party? This is the internet!  We have YouTube. We have Shazam. We have iTunes and Amazon. If you are like my blogger friend Fawn, you can make your own music. There is no reason–no reason at all that we should settle for the same old, same old.

I’m tired of hearing the same songs all of the time. And I’m not like my friend Fawn. But, I can make my own playlist. I thought I’d try to find my favourite–not often heard–Christmas music online and share.

Here is the first Christmas song that I’d like to share. It’s Bing Crosby and a very young David Bowie singing Peace on Earth and Little Drummer Boy. I don’t remember when I first heard this song, but it’s not one I often hear. I have a few more (yes Redd…Smurfin’ Beer is on the list), but I’m just going to do one at a time.

What is your favourite Christmas carol. The one you love, but rarely hear? The one you hear and keep meaning to look up with Shazam or on YouTube. Who do you want to dedicate it to?

Christmas 2009 has definitely started. Happy holidays everyone.

No, not culottes…but short pants. I was hemming a pair of jeans today. I had two pair from earlier this year that were too long and this is the first time I have taken to hem them. They weren’t just a bit too long, they were more than five inches too long. I haven’t hemmed a pair of pants for a few years, but I was quite confident with my hem tape. AND I was borrowing my Mum’s sewing machine to finish the seams.

Regardless. I laid my jeans out on the ironing board. Seams together. I carefully measured the inseam—29.5inches—and folded them up. I pinned them and tried them on. PERFECT!!!

PERFECT!!!

I took them off and I laid them back on the ironing board. And without thinking (nor measuring twice I guess), I cut them off. I don’t really know what I was thinking, but I remember thinking about what my Mum had cautioned: “Don’t cut both sides at once.” (Meaning both sides of one pant leg.) I carefully cut down the inseam to where I’d marked 30.5 inches (one inch for seam allowance). Then (this is when I wasn’t thinking), I took the pant leg (which was doubled over) and cut, straight across.

I looked confused at the pant leg which was now in three pieces. The bottom fold was just cut off and then there was the original bottom of the leg.

Oh.

I’d cut straight across at 30.5 inches with the pant leg folded up. The pant leg was now 28.5 inches.

Oh well. I’ll wear them as capris next summer!

Because, when I’m talking to my oldest sister on the phone and we’re starting to look for Christmas presents for my parents and I open the browser window to start a search for an exercise bicycle and it defaults to cbc.ca as the home page and as I’m talking to my sister I scan the home page to see if there is anything interesting and I notice an article about “Top 10 Kids’ Books“.

We talk. I open a new browser window to Overstock.com (affordable bikes, but they can’t ship to Canada) and we continue talking about life the universe and everything because we actually haven’t talked for a while. 

We finish our conversation and hang up the phone. I go back to the cbc.ca homepage to read the article on “Top 10 Kids’ Books” and the third book in the list is “Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch. 

AND ROBERT MUNSCH is one of my absolute FAVOURITE children’s authors. He came to the Yukon a number of times for book week in March (does anyonee else remember making those kites for book week at Takini Elementary?).

I click the link and get to a page about the Love You Forever book. I click one more time TO LISTEN TO THE BOOK. 

And finally, I look at the rest of his books–because I have a few favourites: namely Mud Puddle and Thomas’s Snowsuit. Redd, this one’s for you. 

Everybody else, it’s worth a listen. Really.

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. These are three words that have been in my vocabulary since my grade 3/4 class with Mrs. Bunker. We learned these three words as part of a national campaign I think–at least, that is what I remember.

The year I left for university, I realized I could save money with that principle too.  Later, as I got my first job and I visited my grandparents once or twice a year, I noticed my grandmother had these reusable plastic covers for her bowls. (She also washed and reused plastic bags too–which is maybe a story for another day–but she certainly didn’t let anything go to waste.)

I love the idea of those reusable plastic bowl covers. I find them quite handy.  And now, as soon as I find a store that sells them, I buy a hearty supply and use them. And reuse them. And resuse them. I wash them in the dishwasher. 

When I was in just in Switzerland, I found that the local Migros carried them — and they were always in stock! I prompty bought my hearty supply.

As I slipped one on the salad bowl with the leftover salad, Ludo said to me: “You are just like your mother!”

“No” I contradicted proudly. “I am just like my grandmother!”

I ask my Dad: “What is the best practical joke you’ve played on someone?” 

He snorts. “Oh. There are so many!” Then he starts chuckling. “I think the best one was when I was driving your sister down to Olds College. We stopped in Fort McMurray to see my relatives. I phoned up my niece and told her she’d just won a truck. A brand-spanking-new truck. She was to come down to the mall in front of the Orange Julius and claim her prize.”

So they  sat and waited in front of the Orange Julius for his niece. Redd was concerned about not knowing who they were. Dad said to watch out for the flustered woman with a red face. And sure enough. Two women came charging into the food court. One of them looked frantically from side to side and spied the Orange Julius. She walked directly up to the counter and demanded her truck!

By this time, my Dad was in stitches. He was beside himself. My sister was laughing too. The second woman (who happened to be my Dad’s sister) saw them and nudged her daughter, quietly pointing them out. Penny (my cousin) wasn’t having any of it. She’d won a truck! God damn it! She was here to claim it. It took a few moments to settle in–the realization that my Dad had pranked her. When she realized what had happened, she just walked out. 

My Dad, my sister, and my Dad’s sister all followed her–howling with laughter.

It was one of my friend’s (from elementary school) birthday yesterday. I thought about her as I wrote the date on some forms at the bank. And made a mental note to check when I got back to the computer. I was surprised to get an email from her later:

Hi Jen,

It’s my birthday today – and, so I’d like to make a blog request. Could you please write a bit about your family’s love of eating lemons. I remember staying at your place when I was 11 (I think) and we found lemons in the top bunk. They were all dried up. It made quite an impression on me.

Some questions remain – Why was Natoline eating lemons in bed? Why didn’t she eat them in the kitchen? Did they give your room a lemony smell? Weren’t lemons really expensive in the Yukon? Didn’t your mom notice the disappearing lemons? What did your mom use lemons for? Did she bake with them, or make salad dressing?

My mom used Real Lemon. My parents liked to put it in water with some sugar, I think.

I can’t really say why Nat was eating lemons in her bed. I can say though, that we weren’t allowed to eat sugar growing up. We have a history of diabetes in the family. My dad was pretty strict about it. We were also not allowed to put sugar in our Kool-Aid. So, if you ever came to our house in the summer, and we had Kool-Aid, it was the unsweetened kind…my mouth is salivating right now thinking about that Kool-Aid tartness.

As for the lemons in bed…I’m not sure. Maybe we thought it was a treat–fresh-fruit-in-the-Yukon-sort-of-thing. Also, am not sure that my mum would miss them. Don’t you remember, we were the ones cooking!

My dad flew down to Calgary last week to help me drive my car home to Whitehorse. He visited with my sister Nat and her family. Friday evening, they all went out for dinner. Dad was sitting at one end of the table. Nat, her sister-in-law and her mother-in-law (I think) were sitting at the same end of the table. They started to talk about quitting smoking. And they talked about the different ways they had tried.  My dad was interested in the conversation because he has been a life-long smoker. He wondered if they were successful.

He heard their testimonials about a new therapy called (or what he thought he heard), called Tampax.  And he wondered how on earth Tampax could be involved in a therapy to help someone stop smoking.

When he questioned them, all three started laughing. My sister said: “No Dad. Champix. Not Tampax!”

And he was just relieved. He didn’t think he was ready to start with Tampax.

My dad tells me: “I used to read you girls nursery rhymes.”

I laugh: “Yeah. I remember your nursery rhymes!” We spend the next few minutes reciting the rhymes he taught us.

Mary Mary quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockell shells
And one big F’ing onion!

We snicker and keep driving.

Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
Each with a dollar and a quarter.
Jill came down
With two fifty
They didn’t go up for water!

“You taught us that?” I’m slightly mortified and laughing at the same time.

“You’re mortified now? You should have seen your mother’s face when she first heard me reciting them to your sister!”