January 7-- The Holidaze In Review

Friday, January 7-- The Holidaze In Review

none (my CD player is still in my carry-on bag)

very year I say to myself that I'm going to try to write every day, even when I'm not at home. And every year, I end up just kidding myself. This time, I even brought a floppy disk with me to save any entries I may have been inspired to write while visiting in Pittsburgh. The disk never left my carry-on bag.
So, every year I get to sit here and try to describe the busiest two or three weeks of my year, all at the same time, a task which is compounded further because everything seems like a blur to me (cursed jet lag).
So, I'll try to go day by day, remembering my events and thoughts and feelings.

Wednesday, 12/22
I am starting to become disenamored with redeyes. Usually, when we come home for Christmas, we take the overnight flight from San Diego to Pittsburgh, thinking that it saves us a day of vacation. After years of straggling off the plane feeling like zombies, then nearly getting sick on the car ride home, and finally crashing for a five-hour nap -- thus obliterating any day we would have saved in the first place -- I think I'm done with all of that, unless we're forced to go the night before to avoid blackout dates or something.
We may have actually been fine, but the one guy on the whole plane who kept his light on for the entire flight was the one sitting right in front of us. So, instead of sleeping, like any sane person would have done, I listened to two CD's, read the US Airways complimentary magazine, and watched parts of "Inspector Gadget" without listening to it.
Thursday, 12/23
One of our many trips to the mall. We just about finished our shopping (although not completely -- that's right; we were two of those pathetic people still out searching for presents on Christmas Eve, although with the traveling we did, at least we have some kind of excuse).
As if it wasn't hard enough to get all of our Christmas shopping done in two days, I had to make another stop -- to buy a suit. Before we left -- actually, the day we left -- I finished up the arrangements to go for an interview during my vacation. In all the hustle and bustle ("silver bells, silver bells...") of the season, I never got to buy a new suit, and wearing an old one was considerably out of the question -- in fact, about twenty In-N-Out Burgers' worth of being out of the question.
Friday, December 24
Every year, I get roped into playing the organ (huh huh huh, he said "organ") at my old church. It's a combination of the fact that I can't say "no" to anybody, and the fact that I never get a chance to play out here because I'm about the sixth or seventh string keyboardist at our current church (we have a very talented congregation, I suppose). This year was no exception. This causes a couple of problems, though -- I'm used to playing on a chinsy Lowrey play-a-whole-orchestra-with-one-finger organ, and the one at our church is probably twice as big. I'm not used to the stops (for you non-organists, the buttons that create different sounds on an organ), and the foot pedals are a different distance apart, so I spent all night playing wrong bass notes and having chimes ring at the most inopportune times. Still, people came up to me and said what a great job I did. I think it's because, to everyone there, I'm still sixteen years old.
Amazingly, we didn't go out after church and look at the Christmas lights, which is usually a family tradition. I'm not sure how we got out of it, actually, since my father is a sucker for tradition, even more than I am. I think the threat of my wife getting carsick in the back seat while we wound through endless residential neighborhoods was enough of a drawback. Besides, it depresses me to see how they've built up almost every square inch of land around my childhood neighborhood. Nothing gives me Christmas cheer more than suburban sprawl.
Friday, December 24
Every year, I get roped into playing the organ (huh huh huh, he said "organ") at my old church. It's a combination of the fact that I can't say "no" to anybody, and the fact that I never get a chance to play out here because I'm about the sixth or seventh string keyboardist at our current church (we have a very talented congregation, I suppose). This year was no exception. This causes a couple of problems, though -- I'm used to playing on a chinsy Lowrey play-a-whole-orchestra-with-one-finger organ, and the one at our church is probably twice as big. I'm not used to the stops (for you non-organists, the buttons that create different sounds on an organ), and the foot pedals are a different distance apart, so I spent all night playing wrong bass notes and having chimes ring at the most inopportune times. Still, people came up to me and said what a great job I did. I think it's because, to everyone there, I'm still sixteen years old.
Amazingly, we didn't go out after church and look at the Christmas lights, which is usually a family tradition. I'm not sure how we got out of it, actually, since my father is a sucker for tradition, even more than I am. I think the threat of my wife getting carsick in the back seat while we wound through endless residential neighborhoods was enough of a drawback. Besides, it depresses me to see how they've built up almost every square inch of land around my childhood neighborhood. Nothing gives me Christmas cheer more than suburban sprawl.


	very year I say to myself that I'm going to try to write every day, even when I'm not at home. And every year, I end up just kidding myself. This time, I even brought a floppy disk with me to save any entries I may have been inspired to write while visiting in Pittsburgh. The disk never left my carry-on bag. So, every year I get to sit here and try to describe the busiest two or three weeks of my year, all at the same time, a task which is compounded further because everything seems like a blur to me (cursed jet lag). So, I'll try to go day by day, remembering my events and thoughts and feelings. Wednesday, 12/22 I am starting to become disenamored with redeyes. Usually, when we come home for Christmas, we take the overnight flight from San Diego to Pittsburgh, thinking that it saves us a day of vacation. After years of straggling off the plane feeling like zombies, then nearly getting sick on the car ride home, and finally crashing for a five-hour nap -- thus obliterating any day we would have saved in the first place -- I think I'm done with all of that, unless we're forced to go the night before to avoid blackout dates or something. We may have actually been fine, but the one guy on the whole plane who kept his light on for the entire flight was the one sitting right in front of us. So, instead of sleeping, like any sane person would have done, I listened to two CD's, read the US Airways complimentary magazine, and watched parts of "Inspector Gadget" without listening to it. Thursday, 12/23 One of our many trips to the mall. We just about finished our shopping (although not completely -- that's right; we were two of those pathetic people still out searching for presents on Christmas Eve, although with the traveling we did, at least we have some kind of excuse). As if it wasn't hard enough to get all of our Christmas shopping done in two days, I had to make another stop -- to buy a suit. Before we left -- actually, the day we left -- I finished up the arrangements to go for an interview during my vacation. In all the hustle and bustle ("silver bells, silver bells...") of the season, I never got to buy a new suit, and wearing an old one was considerably out of the question -- in fact, about twenty In-N-Out Burgers' worth of being out of the question. Friday, December 24 Every year, I get roped into playing the organ (huh huh huh, he said "organ") at my old church. It's a combination of the fact that I can't say "no" to anybody, and the fact that I never get a chance to play out here because I'm about the sixth or seventh string keyboardist at our current church (we have a very talented congregation, I suppose). This year was no exception. This causes a couple of problems, though -- I'm used to playing on a chinsy Lowrey play-a-whole-orchestra-with-one-finger organ, and the one at our church is probably twice as big. I'm not used to the stops (for you non-organists, the buttons that create different sounds on an organ), and the foot pedals are a different distance apart, so I spent all night playing wrong bass notes and having chimes ring at the most inopportune times. Still, people came up to me and said what a great job I did. I think it's because, to everyone there, I'm still sixteen years old. Amazingly, we didn't go out after church and look at the Christmas lights, which is usually a family tradition. I'm not sure how we got out of it, actually, since my father is a sucker for tradition, even more than I am. I think the threat of my wife getting carsick in the back seat while we wound through endless residential neighborhoods was enough of a drawback. Besides, it depresses me to see how they've built up almost every square inch of land around my childhood neighborhood. Nothing gives me Christmas cheer more than suburban sprawl. Friday, December 24 Every year, I get roped into playing the organ (huh huh huh, he said "organ") at my old church. It's a combination of the fact that I can't say "no" to anybody, and the fact that I never get a chance to play out here because I'm about the sixth or seventh string keyboardist at our current church (we have a very talented congregation, I suppose). This year was no exception. This causes a couple of problems, though -- I'm used to playing on a chinsy Lowrey play-a-whole-orchestra-with-one-finger organ, and the one at our church is probably twice as big. I'm not used to the stops (for you non-organists, the buttons that create different sounds on an organ), and the foot pedals are a different distance apart, so I spent all night playing wrong bass notes and having chimes ring at the most inopportune times. Still, people came up to me and said what a great job I did. I think it's because, to everyone there, I'm still sixteen years old. Amazingly, we didn't go out after church and look at the Christmas lights, which is usually a family tradition. I'm not sure how we got out of it, actually, since my father is a sucker for tradition, even more than I am. I think the threat of my wife getting carsick in the back seat while we wound through endless residential neighborhoods was enough of a drawback. Besides, it depresses me to see how they've built up almost every square inch of land around my childhood neighborhood. Nothing gives me Christmas cheer more than suburban sprawl.