Zoom, zoom, zoom

In keeping with the winter weather theme of my blog as of late, I present below, a winter song. In spite of its title, this song makes me feel warm...especially when sung by an all-male choir. I can just picture a small group of bearded men in suspendered leggings, knee-high boots, and peasant shirts sitting in an snow lodge and toasting wooden mugs of hard cider.

Hear it here.

Hanover Winter Song Music by Frederic Field Bullard, Words by Richard Hovey

Ho, a song by the fire; Pass the pipes, pass the bowl.
Ho, a song by the fire With a skoal, with a skoal.
Ho, a song by the fire; Pass the pipes with a skoal,
For the wolf-wind is wailing at the doorways, And the snow drifts deep along the road,
And the ice gnomes are marching from their Norways, And the great white cold walks abroad.

REFRAIN:

But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship, Of fellowship

Pile the logs on the fire; Fill the pipes, pass the bowl.
Pile the logs on the fire With a skoal, with a skoal.
Pile the logs on the fire; Fill the pipes with a skoal,
For the fire goblins flicker on the ceiling, And the wine witch glitters in the glass,
And the smoke wraiths are drifting, curling, reeling, And the sleigh bells jingle as they pass.

REPEAT REFRAIN

Oh, a God is the fire; Pull the pipes, drain the bowl.
Oh, a God is the fire; With a skoal, with a skoal.
Oh, a God is the fire; Pull the pipes with a skoal,
For the room has a spirit in the embers, Tis a God and our fathers knew his name,
And they worship'd him in long-forgot Decembers, And their hearts leap'd high with the flame.

And heigh ho the holly...

...this life is most jolly. Spent the last couple nights out & about in the city, bracing & braving the cold. (I'm fighting these winter blues head-on, baby!) It's a wonder how just a few Christmas lights can change your whole mood. Last night's air was pretty damn brisk, but for some reason I chose to hoof it home rather than escape the biting winter chill in a taxi. I took a detour from the most efficient route back to the apartment and strolled through Rittenhouse Square, smiling at the mulitcolored spheres gracing the park trees and watching them wink back at me. I could even ignore the rustling of the rats in the park shrubs for a few moments so as to take in the simple beauty of the towering evergreen tree, center square, with its sole decor of soft white lights.

But I still hate winter. So bah!

Slothhhhhhh

No, I'm not referring to the loveable beast from "The Goonies," but rather my own lacadaisical nature as of late. Today, I didn't venture out of the apartment once and have only gotten up twice or thrice to use the bathroom. It's somewhat liberating to sit here and bask in my pure and utter indolence. I'm snacking on sinfully decadent choco bonbons because they are the only form of sustenance within a two foot reach of where I'm lounging in my living room watching PBS. Slowly, I'm working up the energy to find my cell phone and call Pete's Pizza for something to nosh on, but this giant squid special keeps drawing me in. This crazy guy has seen the first live giant squid 150 ft underwater somewhere in the Australian deep. Un-friggin-believeable. This type of public television entertainment is second only to the "Moonlight Serenade with Carly Simon on the Queen Mary II" that sucked me in for a couple hours earlier.

Owie, stomach pangs. Call 911 if I don't post a new blog in the next couple days.

Color me freaking freezing

Winter is my nemesis. My tropical blood is screaming for an escape from this arctic hell. It is an uber-pain in the patookas to have to think about whether I have enough layers on to prevent me from passing out from hypothermia each time I have to leave the apartment. I am in serious need of a beach this very moment. I am going to sit here and think thoughts of Africa. At high noon. Me sitting on black asphalt. In sweatpants.

Vegas, baby, yea!

Arrived in Sin City a couple days ago courtesy of a plane ticket from Doc, Jr. As many times as I have been to LV, this is the first occasion I have bypassed the blackjack table and instead, gone to a show. Last night, we witnessed the fantastical world of Cirque du Soleil’s “Mystere.” I love C. du S. and have seen “Quidam” in Houston and “Dralion” in Philly, but this Las Vegas performance was by far the best of the three. The Vegas budget and customizable theater/stage really allowed the show directors to have a free-for-all with the set, costumes, etc. No detail was ignored, from lighting, backdrops, revolving stage, sinking stage, hair, makeup. ..& on & on. The variety of the acts was incredible: they interspersed painstakingly choreographed acrobatic numbers involving the full cast with elegant dance duets spotlighting scantily clad performers. For a laugh, they threw in the occasional comic bits.

My favorite act starred a homoerotic contortionist / gymnastic / strength performance by a male duo; one was built like Mitch Gaylord in American Anthem, but flexible as a lithe 90-lb gymnast, the other, a Dolph Lungren lookalike and double-jointed as all hell. The positions they were able to put their bodies in were unbelievable and required some serious muscle, rubber limbs, and grace. My words do no justice to the twosome's piece.

Anyway, I’m still somewhat on Eastern time (even though day & night in Vegas are sometimes one and the same), so I’ll take my leave as 5am EST approaches.

Rejuvenation

Has been much too long, mes amis. After an extremely relaxing, shamelessly indulgent (food-wise!), and warmly familial Thanksgiving, I have been steadily swept into the holiday bustle of the city. Sparkly lights, the ubiquitous tinkle of Yuletide carols, and… the dratted cold and snow. But I do so love the holidays despite my aversion to dreary winter weather. The spirit of the season and recent renewal of my baptismal vows during my niece’s baptism inspired me to attend mass this Sunday morning at the Basilica. Even though I have been in the cathedral countless times, the grandeur of the dome with its ornate décor of vaulted rosettes in gold-trim and the majestic marble pillars flanking the altar always render me awestruck each time I enter. The choir sounded appropriately heavenly, its four-part harmony lightly resonant on our welcoming ears. I know I must sound so very provolone, but I found much to be grateful for during those quiet moments in the Basilica.