Lightly Frosted Christmas

I enjoyed a mellow, lightly frosted Christmas this year.

I arrived in my homeland late Wednesday night. The food options at the Detroit airport, where I had to change planes, were so paltry that I ate at the Taco Bell.

The next day, it actually snowed! Cool! Sadly, most of the snow that fell on Thursday and none of the dirty little snowmen that the local kids made survived the weekend. But I still appreciate the frosted mini wheat landscape that surrounds my parents house.

Before Christmas, I met the awesome Merland baby. She was so adorable, I couldn't help calling her "sugarpie." Sugarpie Merland immediately impressed me with her deterimination to demonstrate her sippy cup skills and chew my hand. With such strength, irresistably chubby cheeks, and a willingness to snuggle, she will be a force to be reckoned with.

Mom, Dad, and I went to MOA and saw the world's largest gingerbread house.

I had to go to church, but it was okay.

Christmas day was just fine. Mom sang carols. Dad tried to teach me some basic backgammon strategies. I watched Bravo's Top Chef marathon. We all shared a delicious beef dinner. I hope everyone else had a satisfactory Christmas, too.

Don't Ask WHYY

Forget about having a professional sports team win a national championship. What this town needs is a proper flagship public television station.

The provencial corniness of WHYY-TV has overflowed beyond the winter pledge week, prompting me to consider sending any pledge dollars to the much better NJN (which I can watch when the planets are properly aligned) or the delightfully wacky WYBE.

WHYY is just the kind of things midwesterns can point to whenever east coast people want to call us closed-minded. Compared to KTCA, Twin Cities Public Television, which once ran a special on Wiccans during a pledge week, WHYY is as sharp as a plastic butter knife.

Here are the signs that WHYY is not worthy of being the big public television station for a city with cosmopolitan aspirations:

1. It airs The Lawrence Welk Show at 7 p.m. on Saturdays.
2. It aired the Andy Williams Christmas special last night at 9 p.m.
3. It blurred out the raunchy etchings montage from the Marie Antoinette documentary which ran at 9 p.m., a time when impressionable children, even the ones who are drawn to historical documentary, are likely to be asleep. (Maybe I should let this one slide since the FCC was acting all stank this fall.)
4. Jay Jay the Jetplane
5. Whenever Patrick Stoner says, "it's tax deductable to the full extent of the law."

WHYY's locally focused programming appears to be limited to the Cunningham nostalgia pieces, Flicks with Patrick Stoner, and a decent special on Thomas Eakins (its innovative use of achival images and narrative voice overs looked as if it had been done by a slightly advanced college kid using Adobe Premiere). Besides Delaware Tonight, where are the regular local news and public opinion programs like the ones I see on NJN and WBYE?

Did the radio part of WHYY suck all the wind out of the television part?

It's as if WHYY-TV is cowering under the threat that the Lawrence Welk fans will abandon the station. Well, soon they will, whether they want to or not, because no one lives forever. There's a lot of stuff aimed at baby boomers. Meanwhile, the station seems to be doing very little to cultivate younger adult supporters. Sure, they show programs for little kids which parents appreciate, but that's a public television given.

Just be better, WHYY. Please!

Scrooge Things

When I phoned my brother this weekend, Thing 1 had no interest in telling me what he wanted for Christmas. "It's not even close to Christmas!" I heard him grumble in the background after he refused to come to the phone.

Eventually, Thing 2 came to the phone to say, "Hello, Ashy. I want video games." He just left it at that.

After I pressed by brother for more info, I learned that the one gift certain to please Thing 1 is cash, and lots of it. He wants it not so much to spend on the specific things he wants. He just likes to have it around. I don't blame him. Each Christmas, family members overwhelm Thing 1 and Thing 2 with shiny, blinking trinkets and dood-dads. And what good are these things?

I like to image that if only I chose the right presents, the Things will open them and their eyes will sparkle and widen with wonder. "Oh, cooool!" they will exclaim. "This is the best present ever!!!" These gifts will be so brilliant because the Things didn't even know that they wanted them. So much holiday cheer will radiate in their little kid hearts that their house cannot contain it and it will be instantly transmitted half way across the country and into my heart. But this is just a dream. The reality is that after an orgy of unwrapping and feasting, the children are more likely to implode than to exude some kind of transcendent joy. It would be a miracle if they thought to say, "Thank you."

So forget my auntish desires to knit adorable hats (even if a little boy really wanted an adorable hat, he'd have to be incredibly brave to admit it) or spend hours searching for the perfect fun yet educational gifts for the 'phews. It's cash that brings a twinkle to little boys' eyes. Maybe I'll throw in a couple of books, too.

I'm glad it's cold

There, I said it. The recent unseasonally warm weather was unseemly. Now that the weather has come to its senses, I can get dressed with confidence.