If you were here a year ago, you might remember Holidailies.
Wherein I promised to blog every damn day for a month. But not just any month – December. The craziest, most out of control month on the calendar. Last year, I was busy. This year, I’ve added a full time job into the mix.
Despite the craziness, the busy-ness of this time of year, I loved Holidailies last year. (It may have been the only thing that kept me sane. Ish.) So every day, from now till January 6, I’ll be here. Daily. For better, or oh-good-god-why-won’t-she-shut-up-worse.
If you are new here, if you came over from the Holidailies page, then as the title of this post says, Welcome!
Poke around, find out as much or as little about me as you want. And since this is the festive season, I think one of the quickest ways to get to know me is to hear about my favorite Christmas carol. Or, more specifically, my favorite version of my favorite carol.
When I was a kid, in middle-of-nowhere-Canadian-prairie, we got two TV channels. Two. Nowadays, if my family misses the 6:30 showing of “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas”, we can catch it on another channel at 7:30. Or 8:00. Or next week. Or wait for the live-action Jim Carrey version. Not so when I was a kid. It came on once, and there was no PVR, and you either watched it or you didn’t.
So we fell into the habit of taping damn near everything that came on TV during the month of December. On a couple of VHS tapes, that no matter how much we adjusted the tracking stayed snowy, and just got snowier. If you were to sift through the detritus of my childhood, you’d probably find the tape, in an orange box, labeled “DON’T TAPE OVER”. That was the tape with A Claymation Christmas Celebration on it.
For those of you born after 1985, the Claymation clan included the California Raisins. Shriveled grapes designed to market raisins to me, they also sang a jive version of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”.
We were obsessed. My sisters and brother and I couldn’t stop singing it. If we started it, we had to finish it. Four little white Canadian kids doing their very best blues version of a Christmas classic. And the fun didn’t end in December. Oh no. No, we’d watch that snowy VHS tape right into the summer, butchering harmonies, channeling our inner Arethas.
This Christmas finds the four of us as spread out, geographically, as we’ve ever been. Between us, we’ve brought another four little kids into the world.
I miss my sisters and brother. I’m sad I won’t spend Christmas with them. But the one thing that makes me feel a little closer? That any time any of us hears the song, or sings it to one of our kids, whether we mean to teach it to them that way or not, it will be the Raisins’ version.
“Hey RUDOLPH! C’mon and guide my sleeeeiiiigh!”