I'll be honest: Even though 2020 is supposed to be a year to reassess and/or reflect on traditions and family especially in light of, uh, all that's happening, I don't feel any more reverent or solemn this Christmas than I do any other. Maybe it's because I have my parents here and I feel that things are alright with the world. Or, maybe it's because Mother's driving me crazy with her stupid questions and narcissistic requests and so I don't want to reassess and/or reflect. I'm not saying Christmas is a joke. This day is the holiest in the Western calendar, and I respect that.
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I had no intention of going out today. But Father blindsided me with this bag he wanted me to give to uncle. Well shoot -- if I'm going to have to go out, I'm going to go out. After dropping it off, I went to Dunkin' Donuts for the final Free Donut Friday ... but the store was closed. Then I went to McDonald's because they'll be open of Christmas ... except the two I went to were not. So I resort to the final, sure-thing refuge on this most holiest of days: The gas station. And God bless 'em, the gas station was open. I took time to myself to get a convenience store cheeseburger, a Wild Cherry Pepsi, and a ticket each of Mega Millions and Powerball. I then sat in my car and ate and drank. Yep, that's Christmas, and Christmas in 2020, and 2020.
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Uncle is not doing well. Watch this space.
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The roads continue to not be good. The blizzard that came through Wednesday started out as a rain event, and the storm eventually turned colder, freezing the liquid to the roads. I'm sure MNDOT has put down salt and brine, but the temperature yesterday and today I don't think is warm enough to activate them to melt away the ice, at least not yet.
I went from work to Southdale and the Cheesecake Factory yesterday. I drove around a bit today. Both times, the roads remained slippery, if not dangerous. There is no more scary feeling that driving on a road and knowing you don't have any traction whatsoever. Inertia and luck are the only things keeping you straight. Meanwhile, a couple times when I turned, I heard this awful rumble underneath my car. I think that noise was my tires as I was sliding sideways. Scared I did a number on my tires.
Hope to God that the roads are better when I go to work tomorrow.
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Oh, for my Christmas song this year I am choosing one that I have yet to hear on the radio this season. I'm not the biggest fan of Stevie Wonder's "Someday at Christmas." But it has a good message about yearning for peace and equality, and in these fraught times, well, it's a political song. (And I should add that I really like the sober reality that grounds his dream: "Maybe not in time for you and me." He still yearns for it, for humanity's sake, even if he himself cannot live to see that day.) I wanted to highlight Wonder because Slate did something similar. Almost four years ago to the day, the website did a major rebranding, and to kick it off, they had "Wonder Week," a series of essays praising the genius of Wonder. That theme was determined, in a way, by the calamity and sadness not unlike what is happening now. Even though I swear it was more recent, 2016 was that year where every singer seemed to die -- David Bowie, Prince, Leonard Cohen, Sharon Jones, etc. And so, partially at least, Slate decided to extol Wonder's virtues while he was still around. I mean, why do we wait to sing an artist's praises once he or she has died? I am following that same no-brainer logic.
Here is the original, from Stevie Wonder's own YouTube channel ...
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