The sing-a-long, live-action version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" at the Hockessin Public Library on Saturday put everyone in a holiday mood.
The first-ever event, sponsored by the Hockessin Business Association and the library, drew a standing-room-only crowd of parents, grandparents and kids. The children clustered up front on the floor. We were told by one of the organizers that we were welcome to join them, but we opted for chairs instead.
First the audience practiced the songs, twice. It was funny seeing the nonsense Dr. Seuss words written out as subtitles: "Trim up the town with goowho gums and bizilbix and wums."
And then the movie started, with live actors performing it as the classic cartoon played behind them on the big screen. Charles Shattuck, owner of Wild Birds Unlimited, played the evil Grinch with gusto and drew shrieks from the little ones when he made his entrance. He brought along his hapless dog Max (stuffed) and acted out the Grinch's fiendish attempts to spoil the Whos' Christmas. The little girl who played Cindy Lou Who was adorable, with her red Who tiara.
At the end, of course, as the Grinch realized that Christmas couldn't be stolen, his heart grew three sizes (sproinggg!) and he cheerfully returned all the Whos' belongings and presided at their Christmas feast.
My date and I had a great time, singing and laughing and watching the little kids and the actors. We happened to see Charles the next day at another Christmas event, and he said he had a blast and hoped to do it again next year, maybe with even more special effects. We're going to bring a child along with us for camouflage so we can sit up front.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
THAT TREE: A Christmas tree over Springdell
Don't miss the illuminated "That Tree," the lone tree that sits atop a West Marlborough hill. It's always an impressive sight, no matter what the season, but this is the first time it's ever been decorated with Christmas lights.
The best view is from Route 841 between Blow Horn corner (Route 82) and Springdell. A few weeks ago my Sharp-Eyed Friend saw workers with a bucket truck up there and assumed they were doing some tree-trimming -- which they were, but in a totally unexpected sense of the word. Thanks are due to landowner Dick Hayne and his employees for giving all of us neighbors a treat this season.
The best view is from Route 841 between Blow Horn corner (Route 82) and Springdell. A few weeks ago my Sharp-Eyed Friend saw workers with a bucket truck up there and assumed they were doing some tree-trimming -- which they were, but in a totally unexpected sense of the word. Thanks are due to landowner Dick Hayne and his employees for giving all of us neighbors a treat this season.
LISTENING IN: A stranger who thinks I need to be busier
On Friday evening I got a useful (and always-needed) reminder to think before I speak.
As we waited for a Christmas concert to start, my friend and I were discussing the upcoming weekend's timetable.
"I don't have much on the schedule for tomorrow," I said.
The eavesdropping woman in the row behind us abruptly leaned forward.
"WHAT?" she said in disbelief. How could anyone, especially a woman, not be swamped two weeks before Christmas? Perhaps I would take care of her to-do list, she suggested, thrusting her phone at me.
I smiled politely but gave my companion an eye-roll. The woman was just kidding, at least I think she was, and there was no way for her to know that by "having nothing on the schedule" I wasn't including the several hours of editing work that, as a freelancer, I do every day. Or perhaps she thought I had "lads" to run my errands for me.
Either way, I didn't feel compelled to explain myself to this stranger.
Contrast that to the nice woman who overheard another friend and me talking at Perkins about our confusion over the Mennonites versus the Amish. She, it turned out, was a Mennonite herself and, after asking it was okay to join our conversation, patiently explained the differences. We thanked her for sharing the information.
As we waited for a Christmas concert to start, my friend and I were discussing the upcoming weekend's timetable.
"I don't have much on the schedule for tomorrow," I said.
The eavesdropping woman in the row behind us abruptly leaned forward.
"WHAT?" she said in disbelief. How could anyone, especially a woman, not be swamped two weeks before Christmas? Perhaps I would take care of her to-do list, she suggested, thrusting her phone at me.
I smiled politely but gave my companion an eye-roll. The woman was just kidding, at least I think she was, and there was no way for her to know that by "having nothing on the schedule" I wasn't including the several hours of editing work that, as a freelancer, I do every day. Or perhaps she thought I had "lads" to run my errands for me.
Either way, I didn't feel compelled to explain myself to this stranger.
Contrast that to the nice woman who overheard another friend and me talking at Perkins about our confusion over the Mennonites versus the Amish. She, it turned out, was a Mennonite herself and, after asking it was okay to join our conversation, patiently explained the differences. We thanked her for sharing the information.
Friday, December 12, 2014
EXPECTING: An impending birth is announced
Mothers-to-be are now taking to Facebook to announce their pregnancies.
A gym friend of mine who lives in Cochranville did so last weekend by posting three photos on her page.
One showed her two kids on a raft with the caption "Room for one more." The second had the words "Older" and "Younger" next to her son and daughter replaced by "Oldest" and "Middle." And the third was a grainy but unmistakable sonogram.
It was the best post I saw all day. Marvelous news from one of the most relaxed, sensible modern moms I know.
Even this frankness was trumped on Wednesday, though. An old gym friend of mine is married to a DJ in Boston, and she called in to the station to inform him, live, on the air, that her birth process was starting. She was astonishingly matter-of-fact, especially for a first-time mom, urging him not to rush on his way home. (They had a beautiful baby girl on Thursday, photos of whom were posted on Facebook moments after her birth.)
A gym friend of mine who lives in Cochranville did so last weekend by posting three photos on her page.
One showed her two kids on a raft with the caption "Room for one more." The second had the words "Older" and "Younger" next to her son and daughter replaced by "Oldest" and "Middle." And the third was a grainy but unmistakable sonogram.
It was the best post I saw all day. Marvelous news from one of the most relaxed, sensible modern moms I know.
Even this frankness was trumped on Wednesday, though. An old gym friend of mine is married to a DJ in Boston, and she called in to the station to inform him, live, on the air, that her birth process was starting. She was astonishingly matter-of-fact, especially for a first-time mom, urging him not to rush on his way home. (They had a beautiful baby girl on Thursday, photos of whom were posted on Facebook moments after her birth.)
TRAFFIC STOP: A check at Broad and Cypress Streets
A friend was 15 minutes late for lunch today, but when she arrived had a classic island-of-Unionville story to relate.
It seemed she was having a slight difference of opinion with a Kennett Square police officer about the color that a traffic signal was showing when she entered the intersection (although they both agreed it wasn't green).
The officer pulled her over and noticed from her vehicle that she was an equestrian.
Only in Unionville would a police officer ask the next question that he did: "Who do you hunt with?"
(Long story short: after a pleasant chat, they agreed to disagree and she received a warning.)
Another indication of how popular equestrian sports are in our area: I noticed Cheshire's schedule posted on the wall at my mechanic's garage. Where else but ... ?
It seemed she was having a slight difference of opinion with a Kennett Square police officer about the color that a traffic signal was showing when she entered the intersection (although they both agreed it wasn't green).
The officer pulled her over and noticed from her vehicle that she was an equestrian.
Only in Unionville would a police officer ask the next question that he did: "Who do you hunt with?"
(Long story short: after a pleasant chat, they agreed to disagree and she received a warning.)
Another indication of how popular equestrian sports are in our area: I noticed Cheshire's schedule posted on the wall at my mechanic's garage. Where else but ... ?
Thursday, December 11, 2014
HOLIDAY CDS: They make it feel like Christmas
Around Thanksgiving time I made the impulse purchase of several Christmas music CDs put out by popular singers.
The best of them, and it's very good, is "The Gift" by Susan Boyle, the woman who became a star in my book simply by reducing Simon Cowell to stunned silence when she auditioned on "Britain's Got Talent." Her CD is a great combination of traditional, beautifully arranged carols and some offbeat, thought-provoking selections (Lou Reed's "Perfect Day"?). And I've always loved the Church of England hymn "Make Me a Channel of Your Peace," which she performs simply and reverently.
She also sings the songs correctly: in "The First Noel," "looked" should be a two-syllable word. Tilda has spoken.
As for the other CDs? Well, apparently you what you need to do these days to release a Christmas CD is: (a) mash up a traditional carol with a modern "holiday" song, to the benefit of neither one; (b) throw in "ad libs" and phony-sounding laughter; (c) riff on an unimportant word in the song, change the key, add a disco beat, or leave a pointless pause so long it sounds like a glitch ("later on [3 seconds of silence] we'll conspire").
But then, just as I was about to leave the CDs behind "accidentally on purpose" in a public place for some other listener, the singer would do a smashing, heartwarming version of "All I Want for Christmas" or "You Make It Feel Like Christmas." Time to do some cutting-and-pasting on the playlist.
The best of them, and it's very good, is "The Gift" by Susan Boyle, the woman who became a star in my book simply by reducing Simon Cowell to stunned silence when she auditioned on "Britain's Got Talent." Her CD is a great combination of traditional, beautifully arranged carols and some offbeat, thought-provoking selections (Lou Reed's "Perfect Day"?). And I've always loved the Church of England hymn "Make Me a Channel of Your Peace," which she performs simply and reverently.
She also sings the songs correctly: in "The First Noel," "looked" should be a two-syllable word. Tilda has spoken.
As for the other CDs? Well, apparently you what you need to do these days to release a Christmas CD is: (a) mash up a traditional carol with a modern "holiday" song, to the benefit of neither one; (b) throw in "ad libs" and phony-sounding laughter; (c) riff on an unimportant word in the song, change the key, add a disco beat, or leave a pointless pause so long it sounds like a glitch ("later on [3 seconds of silence] we'll conspire").
But then, just as I was about to leave the CDs behind "accidentally on purpose" in a public place for some other listener, the singer would do a smashing, heartwarming version of "All I Want for Christmas" or "You Make It Feel Like Christmas." Time to do some cutting-and-pasting on the playlist.
CREATIVITY: Elbow macaroni: accept no substitutes
The Shopping Partner and I were in the grocery section of the Kennett Wal-Mart the other day, buying fixin's for macaroni and cheese for a potluck supper. As he was scanning the shelves for the correct-size box of elbow macaroni, I suggested that perhaps using shell-shaped pasta would be a nice change of pace.
Silly me.
"Shells?!" he said in disbelief. In loud disbelief. "SHELLS?!"
It seems that in some people's minds, mac and cheese can be made with only one type of pasta, and that type of pasta is elbow macaroni. This was explained to me in very plain language.
The shopper standing a ways down the aisle tried really hard to contain his amusement during this exchange but was as unsuccessful as I was.
Silly me.
"Shells?!" he said in disbelief. In loud disbelief. "SHELLS?!"
It seems that in some people's minds, mac and cheese can be made with only one type of pasta, and that type of pasta is elbow macaroni. This was explained to me in very plain language.
The shopper standing a ways down the aisle tried really hard to contain his amusement during this exchange but was as unsuccessful as I was.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
CHATHAM: A meteor sighting on Sunday night
I got to see a meteor tonight! We were driving home through Chatham on Sunday evening, having picked up Chinese takeout from the China Kitchen in West Grove, and there it was, a huge, brilliant, gold star speeding from left to right, leaving behind a broad trail of gold sparkles. Magical! And we didn't even have to get up in the middle of the night, bundle up in layers and stand outside shivering and yawning and squinting.
A few moments after we saw the meteor we passed the Stillwaters Presbyterian Church on Route 841, which happened to be hosting a "live nativity" scene that evening. I don't think the meteor was part of their display, but who knows? Maybe their special-effects person has friends in high places.
A few moments after we saw the meteor we passed the Stillwaters Presbyterian Church on Route 841, which happened to be hosting a "live nativity" scene that evening. I don't think the meteor was part of their display, but who knows? Maybe their special-effects person has friends in high places.
CELTIC HARP: Gillian Grassie and a terrific potluck supper
Saturday night's harp concert by Gillian Grassie was the last official event in London Grove Friends Meeting's 300th-anniversary celebration, and it was a delightful and well-attended evening. The potluck supper preceding the concert was an absolute feast, with turkey, ham, salads, pasta, vegetables, bread and more delicious side dishes than I could count, followed by a well-stocked dessert table (the chocolate cake with mandarin-orange sauce deserves special mention).
In true island-of-Unionville fashion, Gillian (who went to London Grove's kindergarten), her mother Babette Jenny and her step-father sat at our table, along with the doctor we've all gone to for years, and one of her sons. The conversation ranged from prion disease in sheep to the exotic Eurovision Song Contest winner Conchita Wurst.
Gillian was a charming performer with a lovely voice, and it was fascinating to watch her play her big Celtic harp, flipping little levers on the strings to create sharps and flats. In her hour-plus set, she played a funny version of "Santa Baby" (she noted the irony of singing the materialistic song in a Quaker setting), Tom Waits' "The Last Rose of Summer," Regina Spektor's grim "Laughing With," Rodgers & Hammerstein's "It Might As Well Be Spring," and a few of her own compositions, one inspired by the Coleridge poem "Frost at Midnight" and another, "Hinterhaus," by the German custom of having a "back house" that passersby can't see from the street.
She closed with a sing-along of "Silent Night."
In true island-of-Unionville fashion, Gillian (who went to London Grove's kindergarten), her mother Babette Jenny and her step-father sat at our table, along with the doctor we've all gone to for years, and one of her sons. The conversation ranged from prion disease in sheep to the exotic Eurovision Song Contest winner Conchita Wurst.
Gillian was a charming performer with a lovely voice, and it was fascinating to watch her play her big Celtic harp, flipping little levers on the strings to create sharps and flats. In her hour-plus set, she played a funny version of "Santa Baby" (she noted the irony of singing the materialistic song in a Quaker setting), Tom Waits' "The Last Rose of Summer," Regina Spektor's grim "Laughing With," Rodgers & Hammerstein's "It Might As Well Be Spring," and a few of her own compositions, one inspired by the Coleridge poem "Frost at Midnight" and another, "Hinterhaus," by the German custom of having a "back house" that passersby can't see from the street.
She closed with a sing-along of "Silent Night."
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