The other day, as I was being subjected to one of the local radio stations that have been playing Christmas music since before I went to bed on Halloween, a song came on that I’ve really never associated with Christmas. The song was “My Favorite Things”, which I’m sure you’ll be familiar with if you’ve ever heard of a certain musical called The Sound of Music.
This song was featured in the scene during a summer thunderstorm, which is probably why I never thought of it as a winter holiday song and why it had no business wedged in between one of the five versions you hear of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” and Gloria Estefan singing “White Christmas” (in Miami??). But I digress.
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The list of things that are so wonderful as to cause the vocalist in “My Favorite Things” to burst into song just don’t seem that great to me. Schnitzel with noodles? Doorbells? Really?
And that got me to thinking.
Over the last year I’ve been… well… a little negative on this space you’ve let me have here. Without a doubt I’ve shared a bunch of things that are decidedly not my favorites. I’ve brought up ear dongles, indoor sunglasses, and pirate pants as things comparable to Hammerstein’s lamented bee stings and biting dogs, but I’ve never really told you what my crisp apple strudel is.
I promise I’ll not burst into song, but as we get closer to our celebration of Christmas I like to think about the things I love and enjoy. So here goes:
I don't care for raindrops on roses, but I really like to read. I have two favorite types of books: Those that contain lists of little known facts (such as how astronauts scratch an itch) and books that I’ve read before. Seriously. Ask my wife. I’ll read the same book over and over.
You can keep your blue satin sashes- I love, love, love music. There is always music playing at my house. From the moment I get up until the moment I go to bed.
Also, much to my wife’s chagrin, I tend to like music that one has to “get into”. You know, not the stuff that you can hear once and think “that was a good song, I wouldn’t change the station the next time it comes on”.
No, a lot of times I prefer the stuff you have to sit down and really kind of try to like. Not really the best dinner-time background sound. But I tell you-- when something musical “clicks” in my mind I can’t explain… it’s like lights come on in my head or something. It’s like brown paper packages tied up with string or something. Whoa.
Speaking of lights, lights are my cream colored ponies. I love lights. My first word was “lights”, and I’ve loved them ever since.
I love lighting effects and artists that can successfully paint light (*note- not to be confused with "The Painter of Light", Thomas Kinkade. I'll leave that stuff on decorative plates thank you). My wife has probably forgotten, but our suite where we honeymooned in Bermuda had lights in the bathroom sink. In the sink! What a great place for a light! Sweet.
Really, if it were up to me every picture in the house, every plant, every wall, and every ceiling would have some kind of cool mood lighting in or on it. That’s how much I freaking love lights.
Hmm. I just re-read through my post so far so I could wrap it up with a cute summary, when I noticed a common thread. Now, I promise I didn’t plan it this way. It seems that no matter what it is that I really enjoy, from reading to lighting, I’ve somehow managed to find a way to tie that into a story or comment on my wife.
So, yeah. Rather than leave it at the three loves I planned on writing about when I began, it seems clear that my "silver white winters that melt into spring" is her.
See, even when our “favorite things” aren’t the same- right now I’m downstairs listening to music and she’s upstairs knitting and watching a movie- we’re still connected and pleased knowing that the other is finding enjoyment in life. And if that’s not better than bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens, then I guess I’ve missed the point.