I just watched that old stop-motion animated Rudolph special, where Burl Ives is the talking snowman. Certain parts of it felt so familiar it was almost as though I was watching something I had written. Of course, I’ve seen it every year since I can’t even remember when, so that’s not really surprising. It’s such a sweet show, and it worries me that the networks seem to be airing it earlier and earlier in the season every year. How long will it take them to axe it altogether? I hope they never do – if I ever have kids (big if!) I am making sure they get a chance to watch it. And even if all I ever am is an auntie, I can still nudge any nieces and nephews in that direction, I suppose.
Anyway, I’ve been home for over a week now (hence the dearth of blogging) and I’m starting to sink thoroughly into the pit of comfort and nostalgia. It happens over the summer, too, but there’s something about the holidays that really drives it home. I can see some of you flinching at the very thought, so I feel like I have to point out that I have very fond memories of Christmas etc growing up. Nothing there to make a tasteless Christmas comedy out of. Lucky me!
So this Rudolph story has helped, in all its sugary splendor, to bathe away all the stress of last term, and at last I am convinced: Christmas is coming.
Crap – time to go wrap…!