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Reindeer of Celeste
Dec. 15th, 2019 10:02 pmYesterday was the anniversary of the day we went caroling together and the Sparrowhawk decided I was the only one for him. Fifty-one years ago! And in another century. We did our best to celebrate, and succeeded in a modest way, although the day didn't start as well as we had hoped. Our neighbor came to the door to tell us his car had some things stolen out of it. We hadn't locked ours, either, and the thieves took all the spare change, which was nothing much, but also my prescription sunglasses. I felt upset and violated to a much greater degree than really warranted by the importance of the item. But they were the only ones I'd ever had, and they were fancy and I liked them, and I'd worn them often when driving to and from my mother's place. It hurt to lose them, and it took me awhile go get over it.
Last night, I dreamed about a guy who stole a van from the CIA facility where he worked and took off in it, deserting his high-security job. He'd hacked the electronic gate, so it closed behind him and the pursuers couldn't get out. They fired a hail of bullets at him, but the bullets hit the impenetrable gate and bounced back, endangering their own people, so they had to stop. The story then took an expository break to explain that he was an expert on language and culture, and had recently come up with a concept called "winter intuition." This is the sense of winter that different cultures have, and that affects their thinking about winter and about danger in general. The Vikings, for instance, had a winter intuition that winter was a dangerous, life-threatening event. This resulted in language and memes like the Frost Giants, and the Fimbulwinter, the world-ending advance of ice and cold. I thought that was quite interesting, but I woke up before I could find out just why the protagonist's revelations about winter intuition had seemed important enough that they made him ditch the Agency in such a hurry.
I couldn't get back to sleep, so when it was time for church, I staggered off in a bit of a daze, there to spend three and a half hours in rehearsal and performance of the Christmas "cantata." It was an abridged production of "The Nightmare Before Christmas." Also pretty much a waste of time for the instrumental group. Our Maximum Leader had such a struggle with the music that we had only a couple of pieces to play. She was given originals that were cut and pasted and missing parts, so it was too hard for her to arrange something that would sound good in the time allotted. And of the three bits she did put together for us, two were unworkable because we had almost no rehearsal time by the time the choir was done. So we played one piece twice. We were all just sightreading! I didn't do too badly--we could barely hear ourselves anyway. The costumes were hilarious, especially Oogie Boogie, a short man in a big suit, who did his best to sashay and boogie down the aisle. The pianist is wonderful, and ploughed ahead with verve and rhythm, although I could almost see the sweat popping out on his brow. At one point, his pages kept turning themselves and I finally got up and held the corner so he could see what he was doing. Back home, I wrote a note to my aunt plus 11 more Christmas cards, mixed up some gingerbread cookie dough, and took a nap. Tomorrow we have to get back to work on our tasks!
Last night, I dreamed about a guy who stole a van from the CIA facility where he worked and took off in it, deserting his high-security job. He'd hacked the electronic gate, so it closed behind him and the pursuers couldn't get out. They fired a hail of bullets at him, but the bullets hit the impenetrable gate and bounced back, endangering their own people, so they had to stop. The story then took an expository break to explain that he was an expert on language and culture, and had recently come up with a concept called "winter intuition." This is the sense of winter that different cultures have, and that affects their thinking about winter and about danger in general. The Vikings, for instance, had a winter intuition that winter was a dangerous, life-threatening event. This resulted in language and memes like the Frost Giants, and the Fimbulwinter, the world-ending advance of ice and cold. I thought that was quite interesting, but I woke up before I could find out just why the protagonist's revelations about winter intuition had seemed important enough that they made him ditch the Agency in such a hurry.
I couldn't get back to sleep, so when it was time for church, I staggered off in a bit of a daze, there to spend three and a half hours in rehearsal and performance of the Christmas "cantata." It was an abridged production of "The Nightmare Before Christmas." Also pretty much a waste of time for the instrumental group. Our Maximum Leader had such a struggle with the music that we had only a couple of pieces to play. She was given originals that were cut and pasted and missing parts, so it was too hard for her to arrange something that would sound good in the time allotted. And of the three bits she did put together for us, two were unworkable because we had almost no rehearsal time by the time the choir was done. So we played one piece twice. We were all just sightreading! I didn't do too badly--we could barely hear ourselves anyway. The costumes were hilarious, especially Oogie Boogie, a short man in a big suit, who did his best to sashay and boogie down the aisle. The pianist is wonderful, and ploughed ahead with verve and rhythm, although I could almost see the sweat popping out on his brow. At one point, his pages kept turning themselves and I finally got up and held the corner so he could see what he was doing. Back home, I wrote a note to my aunt plus 11 more Christmas cards, mixed up some gingerbread cookie dough, and took a nap. Tomorrow we have to get back to work on our tasks!
