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Dec. 4th, 2017 02:48 pm
Gnadenbringende Weihnachtszeit
If I were a superstitious sort, I'd consider my attempts to prepare for Christmastide ill-starred: The one light I tried to put up was broken, I almost burst into tears at the Christkindlmarket, and the Advent wreath stubbornly refuses to stay lit. But I will not be discouraged.
Last year, I didn't decorate at all, apart from maybe one string of lights on the mantlepiece. I did hang stockings; I remember convincing the Old Man to let me empty his and surprising him with a piece of panforte. Not doing that this year. One stocking at the fireplace is even more pathetic than none at all.
But St Nick still makes his rounds at work, so a trip to the Sweets Castle was a necessity. The German-speaking bear group was due for another meetup, so I convinced the organiser to plan it for the Christkindlmarket. What I didn't know at the time is that crowd scenes wig him out--and it was gorgeous weather, so quite crowded indeed.
Nevertheless, I managed to score us a table and hold it against hungry glares until Nuphy arrived uncharacteristically late. Pflegetaube joined us shortly after, announcing that with him our complement was complete. We got in a good hour of German practice, though it grew awkward near the end when an unattached gaffer in a Harley Davidson jacket came and sat next to us. Gemütlichkeit is all good and well until it undermines my Uebung.
Nuphy hung around for a while longer, browsing the booths with me for gifts for his son-in-law, but I was all alone at the Sweets Castle. One of the first things to cross the line of my vision inside was a gingerbread heart decorated with the label "Kätzchen" and a Hello! Kitty. Were Monshu alive, no question, it'd be in hiding at home now in anticipation of its unveiling Thursday. Instead I just sighed and tried to concentrate on the hollow chocolate Santas nearby.
But that place is a minefield; if I wasn't confronting treats I'd like to buy for him (macaroons, marzipan bars, Weinbrandbohnen), I was seeing things I'd normally take home with me to St Louis. Fortunately, the shop wasn't crowded, but the square outside was almost literally packed with people. I spent several minutes fighting my way out then found a quiet place behind the tents to regain my composure.
Earlier in the day, I'd gone looking for a festive light Monshu bought me consisting of a glass brick with an image of cardinals in snow plastered to one side and a hole drilled in the back for a tree bulb. In trying to adjust the socket, I pushed it too far into the hollow interior. Egal, I thought, as long as it still lights. It doesn't. [Postscript: Fiddling with it this morning, I found a solution which did actually involve shattering anything. Still need to find a replacement bulb though.]
I'd hoped to get in a nap when I got home to compensate for staying up much too late after Bear Night, but a side trip to a clothing store to try to distract myself from my lugubrious mopery took longer than I thought (and left me with only socks to show for it) and it was already 3 p.m. I decided to kill an hour at chores before heading to the lake watch the supermoon rise. At least that went to plan, though the moonrise itself was a bit of a dud. It was more spectacular after clearing the cloud bands pillowed on the horizon. I couldn't think of a poem to recite so I tried composing my own but got stymied trying to find an ending.
Finally, toward bedtime, I wiped down a tray and set up the candles I'd pulled out of the pantry earlier. (The trip down to Gethsemane to get greenery never happened.) First the grill lighter I keep in the front hall sputtered until it died without ever setting the candle alight. So I got the spare and discovered that it was really the candle's fault. Several minutes of heating it and pouring off wax finally got it to the point where the wick could hold a flame for a few minutes before extinguishing itself. I decided that was good enough and called it a night.
Last year, I didn't decorate at all, apart from maybe one string of lights on the mantlepiece. I did hang stockings; I remember convincing the Old Man to let me empty his and surprising him with a piece of panforte. Not doing that this year. One stocking at the fireplace is even more pathetic than none at all.
But St Nick still makes his rounds at work, so a trip to the Sweets Castle was a necessity. The German-speaking bear group was due for another meetup, so I convinced the organiser to plan it for the Christkindlmarket. What I didn't know at the time is that crowd scenes wig him out--and it was gorgeous weather, so quite crowded indeed.
Nevertheless, I managed to score us a table and hold it against hungry glares until Nuphy arrived uncharacteristically late. Pflegetaube joined us shortly after, announcing that with him our complement was complete. We got in a good hour of German practice, though it grew awkward near the end when an unattached gaffer in a Harley Davidson jacket came and sat next to us. Gemütlichkeit is all good and well until it undermines my Uebung.
Nuphy hung around for a while longer, browsing the booths with me for gifts for his son-in-law, but I was all alone at the Sweets Castle. One of the first things to cross the line of my vision inside was a gingerbread heart decorated with the label "Kätzchen" and a Hello! Kitty. Were Monshu alive, no question, it'd be in hiding at home now in anticipation of its unveiling Thursday. Instead I just sighed and tried to concentrate on the hollow chocolate Santas nearby.
But that place is a minefield; if I wasn't confronting treats I'd like to buy for him (macaroons, marzipan bars, Weinbrandbohnen), I was seeing things I'd normally take home with me to St Louis. Fortunately, the shop wasn't crowded, but the square outside was almost literally packed with people. I spent several minutes fighting my way out then found a quiet place behind the tents to regain my composure.
Earlier in the day, I'd gone looking for a festive light Monshu bought me consisting of a glass brick with an image of cardinals in snow plastered to one side and a hole drilled in the back for a tree bulb. In trying to adjust the socket, I pushed it too far into the hollow interior. Egal, I thought, as long as it still lights. It doesn't. [Postscript: Fiddling with it this morning, I found a solution which did actually involve shattering anything. Still need to find a replacement bulb though.]
I'd hoped to get in a nap when I got home to compensate for staying up much too late after Bear Night, but a side trip to a clothing store to try to distract myself from my lugubrious mopery took longer than I thought (and left me with only socks to show for it) and it was already 3 p.m. I decided to kill an hour at chores before heading to the lake watch the supermoon rise. At least that went to plan, though the moonrise itself was a bit of a dud. It was more spectacular after clearing the cloud bands pillowed on the horizon. I couldn't think of a poem to recite so I tried composing my own but got stymied trying to find an ending.
Finally, toward bedtime, I wiped down a tray and set up the candles I'd pulled out of the pantry earlier. (The trip down to Gethsemane to get greenery never happened.) First the grill lighter I keep in the front hall sputtered until it died without ever setting the candle alight. So I got the spare and discovered that it was really the candle's fault. Several minutes of heating it and pouring off wax finally got it to the point where the wick could hold a flame for a few minutes before extinguishing itself. I decided that was good enough and called it a night.