I write stupid post titles. How about “Lovely December”?

We are too cool to care. Solstice. Whatevs.

We are too cool to care. Solstice. Whatevs.

Fooled you! Can we open a Solstice present now?!?!??!!?

Fooled you! Can we open a Solstice present now?!?!??!!?

Yes, they could open a Solstice present now. So. My kids get to open one present each on Solstice. Just part of me making up stuff and calling it family “tradition” as I go along.

Here’s another new tradition for us: winter band concerts. H plays trumpet now. It’s shiny and loud and he’s not too bad for having been at it only a few months. But H is a performance hater. I can relate to that feeling, but I can’t quite relate to the intensity of how he feels it. Boy howdy, does that boy *not* want any music to come out of him and be heard by other humans. At least not humans who are paying attention. So even though I can’t believe I’m doing this, and I totally don’t expect anyone to click this YouTube link, I have to say that this little clip actually means something to me because I think it means something to H. You can’t even see him at all — it’s just for the audio. And putting it here, I’ll be able to find it this spring when he has a spring concert and we can compare. Yup, I am using this public space as a filing cabinet.

I went to Brad’s work party. That is not so big a thing, a holiday work party. The big thing is that Brad danced with me and now I know how to make that happen. Tell him he should dance with me, listen to his excuses, then shrug and go dance anyway. His overactive guilt-and-duty gene then took over and that’s that. Well, alcohol always helps too.

Anyway, then Christmas came! As it always does, and it’s always lovely.

Here is Christmas Eve, waiting for the night to be over.

Eve.

And here the wait is over. Finally.

Morn.

Christmas went as Christmas usually does when you have a couple of excited kids and you’re generally just ridiculously lucky. Not much else to say about Christmas Day. Except Brad cooked some kind of beefy thing and I’ve not had it before and it was good. Coming on the heels of the fancy-pants paella from Christmas Eve and the itty-bitty (perfect size) turkey on the day after Christmas when his parents come to visit.

Which is when I happened to get this photo, which is gold for family files (again with the filing cabinet, I know.)

Y'all. This is a four generation photo. PLUS a cat. Future heirloom photos don't get better, you know. Well, except maybe with actual photography skills. I mean they don't get better when I'm the one taking the photo.

Y’all. This is a four generation photo. PLUS a cat. Future heirloom photos don’t get better, you know. Well, except maybe with actual photography skills. I mean they don’t get better when I’m the one taking the photo.

Then today Brad took the boys to a museum in Worcester. Sadly, it is closing its doors forever in a few days, so this was the last chance. I didn’t go, but here is the coolest picture they brought back.

6th c BCE Corinthian helmets

This photo requires more yakkety-yakking than a mere caption can hold. Those helmets are from Corinth, from about 550 BCE. Now, I’ve seen old things before. Lots. I’ve even visited Corinth. And I do generally like very old things (though when visiting museums with children, I’m not very able to look at things for more than a split second as I zoom past. Come to think of it, going to museums with Brad is also that way. I need a fun museum buddy.) Anyway, I do generally like to look at old stuff — cuneiform tablets, statuettes from Mohenjo-Daro (not that I’ve gotten to see those in person, I’ve just had Harappans on the brain lately), Aztec pyramids. I like bog men and torques. Ruined buildings so old and so ruined that you can only see outlines of foundations left. Oh. Well, I like all of it, more or less. though the weapons are almost always less interesting.  But those helmets! They’re like something out of one of those Hollywood epics I can’t help loving (Ben Hur! What a ridiculously principled hottie! The dancers in Cleopatra! Sexy as all get out, no consideration of principles required.)

What maybe gets me is that they’re used. My kids are standing, smiling, in front of these three helmets that people wore a really long time ago while they, presumably, killed other people. It’s creepy and fascinating.  Normally, I’m not really into glorifying war, which a weapons museum sort of does, but somehow I have a different feeling about them. Why the fascination?

Probably I’m falling into that trap Thoreau ridiculed, “When the thirty centuries begin to look down on it, mankind begin to look up at it.” Still, I was not terribly interested in, say, the weapons from ancient Pacific NW nations I saw in Ottawa a few years ago. Those artifacts were just as old. Why is this?

It occurs to me that Thoreau was probably not a fun museum buddy.

About sayingthings

K lives in the US with her man and kiddos, knits, cans, dehydrates, bakes bread, (but doesn't cook regular food, particularly), crochets, spins, gardens, studies for a degree that never seems to end, and um, works. Sometimes she wastes time online. Also -- and family, she's looking at you here -- sometimes she swears and says things you might not agree with. But she still loves you.

Posted on December 29, 2013, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Your boys are growing! Kids always do, but still time goes by too quickly. As H becomes more confident his feelings towards performance may abate. Perhaps if he has fun he’ll relax. The blog is a good filing cabinet and a great way to share. Thanks for staying in touch and for the Joyous card!

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