So I mentioned yesterday that I had sent out a text to my siblings asking them about their favorite Christmas movie.

There are certainly many, many from which to choose. I’ve watched so many holiday movies this season that I speak in Christmas carol lyrics.

“Where are you going, Kris?” Bill will ask.

“I’m dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh,” I’ll answer. “I’ll be back soon, so you’d better watch out, you’d better not cry.”

I have watched everything from Mickey’s Christmas Carol to Christmas in Connecticut, and all things in between.  Love  Actually, Poirot’s Christmas, Christmas Vacation, The Bells of St. Mary’s, Last Holiday, the list goes on and on.

I love holiday movies, and I always have. From the time we were little kids, Mom would sit with us and watch holiday movies. I believe she would say Holiday Inn was her favorite. Who couldn’t love the crooning of Bing Crosby and the dancing of Fred Astaire? Interesting fact: the song White Christmas was actually originally from Holiday Inn, and it was so popular that they created an entire movie around it, cleverly called (wait for it) White Christmas.

Anyway, I know you’re all on the edge of your seat to find out what movies we all call our favorites. It turns out I couldn’t get any of my siblings to commit to one.

Bec said her favorite was A Christmas Carol, the one with George C. Scott as opposed to Mickey Mouse. But she said it was hard to choose between that and the aforementioned Holiday Inn.

Jen had trouble choosing as well. Here’s how she couched it – her favorite contemporary movie is The Holiday, with Kate Winslet, Cameron Diaz, Jude Law, and Jack Black. (I like that one also, though it’s hard to fit Jack Black into a romantic role.) On the other hand, her favorite old movie is White Christmas, with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye (“We’ll follow the old man wherever he wants to go.” That is a song that sticks in my head for weeks after I watch that movie.)

Dave said he will admit to liking Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation. He won’t, however, admit to watching White Christmas and Miracle on 34^th Street when there is no one else in the room.

As for me, there is no better Christmas movie than A Christmas Story. I love every single thing about that movie. I have seen it so many times that I truly can say the lines along with them (but, thankfully, I don’t). I love the movie so much, in fact, that my niece Maggie, for Christmas a couple of years ago, got me a nightlight in the shape of the infamous “major award” lamp.

There are many, many priceless scenes. I love when the little brother falls and can’t get up because he has so much winter clothing on. I can’t help but laugh when Santa tells poor Ralphie, “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid.” And, there is, of course, Ralph’s dad’s major award.

But my favorite scene isn’t funny; it’s indescribably poignant.

One more chance to laugh at this photo. Doesn’t Austin look like Ralphie?

Throughout the movie Ralphie and his friends have been bullied by one of the neighborhood boys. He has picked on them endlessly. After a series of mishaps and disappointments, Ralphie is walking home from school when the bully begins his taunting, and Ralphie has had it up to HERE. Instead of running as he usually does, Ralphie attacks him like a wild dog and begins beating the living daylights out of the boy. Ralphie’s brother Randy runs to get their mother, who comes and stops Ralphie from doing any further harm. She takes him home, talking quietly to him all the while. She calms him down by putting a cool, damp cloth on his neck. And then, she manages to find a way to tell Ralphie’s dad that he had been in a fight without getting Ralphie the anticipated discipline. The scene is the quintessential example of what being a mom entails. It’s lovely.

But now my movies are tucked away until next year, when I will again embark on a Christmas movie extravaganza.

What is your favorite Christmas movie?

A week or so ago, I sent my brother and sisters a text message asking them to name their favorite Christmas movie. Within 30 seconds, I got a response from my brother. It was clear that he had misunderstood my question, because his answer was “Happy Holidays by the Williams Brothers.”

I immediately understood that he thought I had asked him about his favorite Christmas song. After that immediate first thought quickly came my second thought – Happy Holidays by the Williams Brothers?

Whaaaaaaat?

I wasn’t even sure that there was such a singing group as the Williams Brothers. Upon Googling it, however, I learned that there indeed was such a group – Andy Williams (whom I know) and his three brothers apparently performed together, if not regularly, at least occasionally, circa 1960.

This was not the answer I would have expected from my brother.

The answer I would have expected was something like, “I don’t listen to Christmas music because I’m too busy watching sports, but if you hold my feet to the fire, I would say Joy to the World or Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

But the Williams Brothers?

So I called to ask him if he really meant the Williams Brothers.

Yes, friends, he certainly did mean the Williams Brothers. And furthermore, HE OWNS THE ALBUM.

“Mom had the album and listened to it at Christmas,” he explained. I had forgotten that fact until he told me. I remembered an Andy Williams solo Christmas album, but not a Williams Brothers album. And then I looked at the album cover. Oh yes, indeed she had. Memories came flooding back.

Isn’t it funny how music, maybe more than anything else, can bring back such strong memories. My mother loved to listen to music, and especially at Christmastime. We had a huge stereo console in the living room on which she played her LPs. I remember Christmas music by the Ray Coniff Singers, Andy Williams, Mantovani, and, of course, the Williams Brothers. I’m sure there were more.

By the way, here are the responses I got from my sisters, when I asked them about their favorite Christmas song. Actually, what I asked them was what song or songs they were playing over and over this year.

Beckie surprised me by saying that rather than music from a CD, she was watching a couple of videos over and over – Mary Did You Know by Pentatonix, and Angels We Have Heard on High by Piano Guys, Peter Hollens, and David Archuleta.

Jen said she also is listening to Mary Did You Know by Pentatonix, and plays her Michael Buble CDs over and over.

As for me, this year, as in previous year, the Christmas song I play again and again is We Need a Little Christmas, from the musical Mame, performed by Glee.

Now, strictly so that his children have an opportunity to poke fun at him, here is a recording of the Williams Brothers performing with the Osmond Brothers.

Every year Jen gets her grandkids Christmas pajamas. Not just pajamas for Christmas — pajamas with Christmas themes. I was with her this year when she bought them.

Earlier this week, Jen sent me a photo of 4-year-old Austin wearing his new Christmas pajamas — and he’s not happy about it. That fact is abundantly clear from the photo.

I laughed and laughed at that photo of poor, unhappy Austin in his red and white striped pj’s with the enormous Santa decal. The look on his face is priceless.

And it immediately called to mind an image from my very favorite Christmas movie — A Christmas Story. Remember when Ralphie comes down the stairs unhappily wearing the pink bunny pajamas his aunt made for him? And his father says, “He looks like a pink nightmare.”

Seriously folks, look at the faces of both of these children and tell me you didn’t laugh….

Have a great weekend.

Every Christmas season brings a new offering of beautiful Christmas stories. They are mostly the same, which shouldn’t come as a surprise. Oh, you might have the Christmas mysteries that will feature a body found underneath the Christmas tree, but even then the stories are generally not too gruesome.

I love them all. I’ve read a couple so far this year. I will be reviewing Anne Perry’s A New York Christmas in a few weeks. I also read a lovely story called The Christmas Pearl, by Dorothea Benton Frank. Frank’s story is predictably set in low country South Carolina, this time in Charleston. In this story, an elderly woman is given the gift of the magical return of the long-dead housekeeper who for all intents and purposes raised her in the way of wealthy southern households. The housekeeper, named Pearl, straightens out some family difficulties and shows the family the real meaning of Christmas. It was a sweet read.

My favorite Christmas book – one I read every year – is Shepherds Abiding, a Mitford novel by Jan Karon.

The theme is familiar – what is really important about Christmas? Our favorite priest, Father Tim, brings about Christmas joy to all of those he meets throughout the season in the delightful town of Mitford. As for himself, he – who always considers himself a man of thought and not a man who works with his hands, takes on the challenge of bringing back to life a terribly neglected and badly damaged Nativity set to give to his wife for Christmas. There is a delightful “Gift of the Magi” twist to the story that I won’t give away. Shepherds Abiding gives dedicated readers a deeper look at some of the Mitford family. It also gives the reader a sense of what Christmas is like in a small town.

And speaking of O. Henry’s wonderful short story, use this opportunity to read yourself – and read to your kids or grandkids – the wonderful Gift of the Magi. There is no better example of the true meaning of Christmas than this story about the young couple, struggling with money but still wanting to give a meaningful gift to the other. The ending, of course, will come as no surprise, but it makes me tear up every single time anyway.

And of course Christmas isn’t Christmas if you don’t meet Ebenezer Scrooge in some form or the other. Charles Dickens’ book A Christmas Carol is likely the best way to meet the old grouch, but if you haven’t seen a performance of A Christmas Carol in some form or the other, you aren’t really trying. This year I watched, of all things, Mickey’s Christmas Carol. Why? Because my son Court told me it’s one of his favorite Christmas movies. I can see why.

What is your favorite Christmas book or story?

Some random thoughts…..

Thought One: Tuesday morning I visited my orthodontist. I don’t have braces anymore, but I did go through the whole braces-as-an-adult thing from January 1995 to February 1996. Funny enough, Court was in braces at the same time, and he and I went to the same orthodontist. I went because upon removing my braces, my orthodontist gave me a removable retainer that he instructed me to wear every night for the rest of my natural life. Being an obedient Catholic girl, I have done exactly that.

Until about a month ago when it fell from my teeth into my mouth during the night. I didn’t even come close to choking, but it didn’t make me happy. So I went to get the retainer tightened. The orthodontist, who was much grayer than when I last saw him (as am I), and his team did just that. But it reminded me of something from back in that year of braces.

I had clear bands – my one nod to vanity. They are less noticeable, but they also discolor more easily. In particular, curry would instantly turn the bands the color of a New York taxicab. So once a month, when it was my day to get my bands changed, I would eat lunch at a nearby Indian restaurant and would invariably show up at the orthodontist with bright yellow bands. They always got a kick out of me.

Thought Two: After seeing the orthodontist, I went to the grocery store to pick up a few items. Without really giving it a lot of thought, these were among the items I bought…..

I wondered why instead of saying, “Have a nice day,” the clerk said, “Just say no to drugs.”

It’s not that I don’t sleep, it’s just that I don’t sleep like a baby. Bill does. He falls asleep almost immediately and wakes up the next morning, having barely moved. He almost never wakes up during the night. On the rare nights when he has to get up once to use the bathroom, he will tell me the next morning, “I slept HORRIBLY last night.” Yeah, right. I keep trying to find ways to sleep as soundly as Bill. One out of three of those items is bound to work.

Thought Three: When I was a little girl, my mom and dad had a subscription to National Geographic. I used to enjoy looking at the pictures, especially when the stories were about the natives of Africa. I would look with a mixture of horror and glee at the photos of the native women, generally bare-breasted with baskets on their heads. But it wasn’t the bare breasts that drew me. It was the large earrings that hung from their ears, sometimes making the earlobes sag all the way to the shoulders. I couldn’t look away.

I’m pretty used to seeing all manner of piercings and tattoos, and they generally don’t bother me. I had barely closed the door after dropping Court off at college his freshmen year when he began a piercing and tattooing extravaganza. Actually, I’m fairly lucky in that he ended up with only one tattoo, a pierced ear, and a pierced tongue (which lasted only two weeks before it fell out and he nearly swallowed the entire thing).

But the things that I simply can’t get used to are the ears with the large holes in which a hollow earring is placed. I stopped at Jimmy John’s this week to pick up a sandwich, and the young man who waited on me could not have been nicer or friendlier. His ears, unfortunately, bore those gigantic holes. I felt like I was once again looking at those native women in the National Geographic magazine. I couldn’t look at him but I couldn’t look away. It is one fashion statement I will never understand…..

Thought Four: One day this week I surprised Kaiya at lunch time by showing up with food from her very favorite place – Panda Express. I had so much fun sitting at the little table with her and watching her interact with her friends. I want to surprise the rest of my grandkids, but I’m afraid I’m going to run out of time. Here is a photo of Kaiya standing underneath the photo of Kaiya that is in her lunchroom….

Thought Five: Bill is repairing the cushion from one of Court’s dining room chairs. Here is the tag that is on the fabric….

Seriously? California has a state Bureau of Home Furnishings? They REGULATE home furnishings? I’m so very glad I don’t live in California.

I assure you that I had more thoughts than these this week, but blog posts can only go on so long.

I mention last week that I try to keep abreast of what things are trending so that I can report these awesome new ideas to my baby boomer readers. That way we can ALL be hip.

I’m pretty sure that I fail miserably since the only way I find out about anything is if one of my kids or a younger friend happens to mention it to me. And then I generally don’t really understand it, but pretend I do by looking at them with feigned rapt interest.

Have you heard, for example about this new interwebby thingy where you can access information from your computer? And there’s something about a cloud, although I might be getting that confused with Weather Channel.

I’m only half kidding.

So keep that in mind when I pass along this astounding piece of information that I just learned about last week. You’ve probably known about for a year.

My son Court texts me last week (yes, I do have a smart phone Smartypantses) and asked me if I ever listen to podcasts. Now, I vaguely knew what he was talking about from some of the blogs that I read. That, plus my MUCH hipper sister Jen talks about podcasts. She listens to them on occasion.

Anyhoo, I admitted I had never listened to a podcast. “Do you?” I asked him.

He said he did – mostly having to do with basketball.

“But I recently came across a podcast I’m hooked on that I think you would like,” he said. “You should check it out. It’s called Serial.”

It took me a bit of time to find it with only that much information and being so technologically inept. But I found it and figured out how to listen to it. Ladies and gentlemen, I AM FLAT OUT HOOKED.

Hooked to the point where I may stop taking showers and cooking so I can spend more time listening. (Well, I guess I can listen and cook at the same time, but since showers involve becoming wet which would damage my IPAD, that may be a no go. I will begin to look like John the Baptist.)

So let me tell you about Serial.

Serial is a podcast narrated by a former Baltimore Sun reporter named Sarah Koenig. She has begun investigating the real life 1999 murder of a teenaged girl, Hae Min Lee. Lee’s estranged boyfriend, a teenaged American Muslim named Adnan Syed, was tried and convicted of her murder way back in 1999. But Koenig has gotten wind of the case, and as she  investigates further, many questions arise placing Syed’s guilt in question. At least in question to we-the-listeners. An episode in which she explains her process and findings is released weekly.

As you know by now, I am an avid mystery reader. Mysteries are far and away my favorite type of fiction. However, I have never really been a big fan of television programs such as Nightline or 48 Hours. I can’t really tell you why. Apparently real-life murders don’t interest me as much as fictional murders.

But there is something absolutely compelling about this story and what appears (at least after listening to only four episodes; I believe there have been 11 released thus far) to be an almost criminally badly defended case.

Based on my limited knowledge of journalism (a bachelor’s degree and one year as a reporter for a small town newspaper), Koenig seems relatively objective, smart, likeable, and fair. Plus, she has a really pleasant voice and I enjoy listening to her. It’s like listening to a friend.

I’m reminded of the days (before my time, and I emphasize that because hardly anything was before my time) when people used to listen to the radio instead of watching television. I find it a pleasant diversion as I work at my crocheting.

Serial – you  can find it and listen to it online. Just like our children. I recommend you give it a try/

So, as I sort of casually mentioned in yesterday’s post, my frigging-but-adorable yellow bug wouldn’t start. This, after having had it “fixed” on November 19, a mere less-than-a-month ago.

Bill, who thinks he can fix anything (and usually can) was on the internet yesterday morning trying to figure out if and how he could at least diagnose my problem. (You might recall that this past May 1, I also had car issues which resulted in the purchase of a new battery. At that time, I mentioned that Volkswagens are nigh-to-impossible to fix on your own.)

Anyhoo, he was watching a You Tube video which I couldn’t help but overhear since I was sitting a foot-and-a-half from him at the kitchen table. In this video, a man was talking about how to diagnose the problem. He said it was important to determine if it was “no crank, no start” or “crank, no start” as you make your diagnosis.

I called the dealer at 7:00:03 yesterday morning (they opened at 7), and barely-patiently explained to the man who answered that I had brought my car in on November 19 for a (and I’m pretty sure my voice dropped into a very businesslike alto) “no crank, no start problem.”

I’m almost certain I could hear his eyes roll.

“What time will you bring in the car?” he asked.

Did you not hear the part about “no crank, no start?” In your opinion, what does this mean?

My next call was to my friends at AAA, all of whom would go on my Christmas card list if I bothered to send Christmas cards. That ship sailed about 15 years ago.

They were as friendly as ever, and promised a flatbed tow truck would be at our house within “120 minutes.” (That would be two hours for us non-AAA folks. But believe me, I am not complaining about my AAA homies.)

In fact, within 15 minutes we received a call that a tow truck would arrive within 30 minutes. Have I lost you yet?

Because I’m now 61 years old (32,082,889 minutes in AAA-Speak) and thereby eligible for senior citizen discounts and crankiness, I began complaining (to Bill, my captive audience) about how my battery was only seven months old and my car had been pronounced a mere one month ago as being fixed and now we’ll have to rent a car or get a loaner and I’ve got things to do because it’s Christmas season, and yada yada yada.

As it happens, I was on the phone making several appointments for things I had to have done prior to our leaving for the winter in Arizona when Mr. Tow Truck Driver arrived. It didn’t matter, because I had by that time turned the whole matter over to poor Bill, and really for no better reason than that he has a penis.

But here’s the thing. Mr. Nice Tow Truck Driver (who apparently was big and burly, resembling Hoss Cartright for all of you Baby Boomers) took one look at my battery, tightened the battery cable that we HADN’T been jiggling because we didn’t know it existed – and when I say we, I mean Bill – and the car started. It took less time to fix than it’s taken me to write this blog post.

I called the VW service department to let them know I wouldn’t be bringing in the car, foregoing the opportunity to scream at them because they hadn’t noticed this loose cable when I brought the car in a month ago. No percentage in that. I might be seeing them before I know it, and they might do the car maintenance version of spitting in your food.

So, as I write this post, Nana’s Yellow Bug is up and running. Hold your breath.

The other day I was driving in my car with Kaiya and Mylee. Out of the blue, Kaiya said to me, “Nana, your birthday is Sunday. How old are you going to be?”

“I know it is,” I confirmed. “I’m going to be 61 years old,” I said, waiting for the horrified gasp.

It didn’t come. Instead, after a few moments of silence, she asked, “Nana, do grown- ups have birthday parties?”

I explained that most grown-ups didn’t have parties in the same way that kids do, but I told her I usually gathered together with my family for my birthday and that’s what makes me happy. I reminded her of my 60^th birthday party last year at which a personal chef came in and prepared an Italian feast, and the grandkids helped make the pasta and the meatballs. Ah yes. She remembered that celebration very well.

Well, one’s 61^st birthday isn’t quite the landmark birthday that the 60^th is, but I must say I couldn’t have had a better day. Especially when you’re turning 61 and your idea of a perfect day includes your family – especially grandkids.

Well, except for the part about my yellow bug simply refusing to start – no matter how much I shook and rattled the cables. That means another call to my friends at AAA today. I will have to invite them to my 62^nd birthday celebration if my car problems keep up.

Bill – in a perfect Bill manner – woke me up at 5:45, by saying, “Kris, are you awake?” I was now. “Can I give you your present?”

It was the beautiful silver crucifix that he and I had picked out last week. I thought it was to be my Christmas gift, but he surprised me by giving it to me for my birthday. That probably doesn’t bode well for Christmas.

The car not starting didn’t put much of a damper on our day. Bill and I walked over to Dave and Jll’s just as the sun was rising and the snow was beginning to fall. Dave prepared a perfectly wonderful breakfast of eggs benedict. The kids gave me their handmade card – the very best kind, and it included lots of hearts and X’s and O’s.

I received a Facetime call from the grandkids in Vermont and was able to listen to a birthday serenade that included the always-a-hit “Happy birdle dirdle toodle yoodle doodle.” Lots of giggles.

Alastair’s in the back wearing the black sweater, Dagny and Magnolia are in matching dresses, and Adelaide is playing the xylophone.

The morning concluded with a church service at which we listened to the children’s choir that included the four McLain kids singing a beautiful wintertime hymn.

But my day didn’t end there. It couldn’t, because the Broncos were playing at 2 o’clock, and Court and Alyx and the kids were hosting a gathering that included my sister Jen, my nephew BJ, and his girlfriend

This is how you celebrate when you are the father of two little girls.

Page. Jen served antipasto followed by baked ziti and chicken saltimbocca. Court and the girls made my birthday cake – chocolate marble, which Kaiya insisted I would love. I did.

And furthermore, in my honor, the Broncos won. Ugly, but they won. Peyton was feeling poorly, as my grandmother would have said. Apparently you don’t throw well when you have the flu. I couldn’t complain much because I don’t even get out of bed when I have the flu. Anyway, a win is a win, and the Broncos won their division as a birthday gift to me.

What with all of my Facebook birthday greetings and actual real-life birthday greetings from my family who couldn’t be with me, I felt loved.

So Kaiya, while there might not have been party favors and games, my birthday celebration was exactly what I hoped it would be.

Thanks to all of my family for a wonderful day.

Before I tell you what made me smile – no, laugh out loud — this past week, I have to show you the activity schedule for Addie, Alastair, Dagny, and Magnolia this Christmas season.

Wednesday, December 10th at 6:30pm-DTM choir performance at Southmoor
Thursday, December 11th at 6:30pm-AGM choir performance at Hamilton
Sunday, December 14th at 9am and 11am all 4 children sing at Wellshire
Wednesday, December 17th at 2:30 pm and 6pm-DTM 3rd grade performance at Southmoor
Wednesday, December 17th at 6:15pm-AGM band performance at Hamilton
Sunday, December 21st at 6pm-all 4 children in the living nativity at Wellshire

When you have four kids, the family is on the GO!

Now for my story. First, some context. Addie gets up every school day at 6 a.m., dresses, eats breakfast, and walks the block or so to the bus stop, where she catches a school bus at 6:45. Rain or shine.

So, Thursday night I was riding in the van with the whole family, minus Addie who was already up at school as it was her concert we were going to see. Alastair and Dagny were in the back seats, Magnolia and I were in the middle seats, Dave was in front with Jll, who was driving.

Here’s the conversation…

Dagny: Mommy, how far away is Addie’s school?

Jll: not too far, about 5 minutes away.

Dagny: Why does Addie take a bus to school?

Jll: (who always give thorough answers to the kids’ questions): Well, Dagny, I’m sure Denver Public School has done an analysis about how far away kids live and how many dangerous intersections they would have to cross when they determine who is eligible to ride the bus.

Dagny: Mommy, why don’t you drive her to school?

Jll: Well, you see Dagny, when kids get a little older, they like to have a bit more independence. Addie just feels like now that she’s 11, she can….

Alastair, interrupting his mom: Because Mom doesn’t want to have to get in the car at 6:15 every morning and take her to school.

Boom.

Dagny is the second from the left in the front row. I will not be winning any photography contests, but it’s a camera phone People!

Addie is just to the right of the microphone.

Have a great weekend.