My Jewish husband likes Christmas more than I do. He plays Megan Hilty's (tedious) holiday album in the car. Also, he has Celine Dion shrieking so loudly (NOEEEEELLLL! NOELLLLLL!), I find that I cannot think.
At a Broadway performance of "Gypsy," Marc sees a "Momma Rose fir tree ornament." Nothing says "birth of Christ" like a blistering Arthur Laurents play about a sociopathic woman eating dog food and fighting to stay alive. (I cave in. "Yes," I reply, to my husband. "We must have that ornament.")
My own private Christmas party this year involves two songs:
Kristin Chenoweth, O Holy Night
Audra McDonald, Angels From the Realms of Glory
The other day, Marc suggested that we might attend the Mariah Carey Advent concert in Newark. This was a sweet offer, but I had an immediate, traumatic vision of loud, drunken New Jersey residents pushing each other to join a smelly stampede in front of a ratty "merchandise" stand. I made a counter proposal. I will find a Christmassy Irish pub, if my spouse will then join me for The Order, a devastating film about neo-Nazis in America (with a script that borrows from a harrowing true story!) ....
That's my holiday. Can't wait. Tis the season....
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