Following the traditional day of unstuffing the bird and stuffing ourselves, the family unit and I (with the addition of my visiting Mother and Brother from SoCal) dove headfirst with vim and vigor into the retrieval, construction and adornment of the triangular shaped evergreen (read-artificial) pagan icon for the next holiday...the Christmas tree.
While retrieving said icon from the upstairs storage space over the garage, I also received a Kasey Kasem American Top 40 long distance dedication and request (of sorts) from my wife to hunt down our stereo components.
We've actually gone all 3-years of Okie residence without the benefit of our little compact Sony stereo wonder and my Beloved felt it was high time we again filled our lives with the sounds that only a 33 LP could provide.
33 LP? That's right, among the many aged components that make up what I've amusingly labeled as our stereo system, there lies an actual, direct drive Sony turntable.
A vinyl spinner.
A record player.
While we have a wide and varied selection of iTunes downloaded, CD ripped, and pre-recorded on cassette tape Christmas tunes at our disposal, somehow my wife of 9+ years got it into her head that this year, while setting up the tree under which many a wrapped toy will lay awaiting molestation on the morning of the 25th, we should get out the old vinyl Christmas albums, and do it old skool style -- the way she remembers doing it with her family.
Once a place was found for the dust bunnied geriatric music making components and the speakers were appropriately placed, the honor of the first record to be played fell upon Andy Williams' classic Christmas Album.
Twelve seconds into "It's the most wonderful time of the year..." we both remembered why the record technology was so easily and happily left in the veritable dung heap of music reproduction technology, as Andy went on to repeat ad infinitum "and gay happy meetings...and gay happy meetings...and gay happy meetings..."
Sorry Andy. Even a good wipe down of your classic album by my best microfiber spectacle cleaning cloth didn't do the trick.
Maybe John Denver and the Muppets would fare better.
My 4-year old, intrigued by the wondrous black licorice discs, wanted to do the DJ duties so next out of the pile came this wonder of nostalgic Christmas vinyl.
After the 7 or so times we attempted to find an unscratched and dust free section of the album that would play for us, PK took a good long look at the album sleeve in question and blurted out with a modicum of authority and a touch of fear, "the one with the glasses is the scariest chipmunk."
When she's right, she's right.
The tree was completed none-the-less and we're ready to take the season head on.
Umm, right after I put up the lights on the house, of course. Has anyone seen the ladder?