Thursday, November 30, 2006

 

The Christmas Production


This was a day we have looked forward to with excitement and a little bit of apprehension. Today, I took the day off of work, and we headed to the Novi Christmas Show for the debut of Olivia's one act play called "The Christmas Production."

This journey began a couple of months ago when Liv spotted an advertisement for this holiday event in the Detroit newspaper. A footnote in the ad stated that the show's organizers were looking for talent to perform on stage during the weekend. Any interested parties could call the number included with the ad for consideration. Of course, Olivia was interested.

She and her friend, Nichole, wrote "The Christmas Production" together. When we called the women in charge of the Christmas Show, we were shocked that she asked very few questions. Olivia and Nichole would have the stage for one hour on November 30 to put on their play. So, they cast their friends in the roles. (There were about 15 roles in the show.) They came up with a schedule of rehearsals, climbed around in the attic at our church looking for props and costumes, and whipped the show into shape. In the end, it was...... pretty good. It came together and actually worked. And believe me, there were times when we had had our doubts that it would.

We arrived at noon, one hour before the scheduled performance. It was a rainy day, and much to my chagrin, the promised complimentary parking for guest performers was absolutely jam packed. So, I dropped everyone off, parked far away, and hiked in. The show itself was nice, but not exactly what I suspected. I thought it would be more "event" and less "vendors." Instead, the only entertainment or celebration that was evident was the stage where Liv's company was scheduled to perform, and that was a very small, informal affair tucked away in one corner of the complex. The rest of the very large convention space was taken up by row after row after row of vendors selling just about anything you would want. From unique indoor grills to full size arcade video games to playground structures to perfume to toys to gourmet cookies, someone was selling it. If anyone needed a symbol of the crass commercialism of Christmas, I couldn't think of a better one.

We got the lay of the land, broke out the props, and changed into costume. I sat with Christopher and Aidan while Rita helped Olivia get the kids organized and in their places. This was not going to be the ideal venue, but that was okay with me. It was a very informal arrangement, and the majority of the audience consisted of the parents of the kids performing. Some other families wandered in, and they seemed to be pretty interested in what the kids were doing. At 1:00 PM, the world debut of "The Christmas Production" kicked off at Rock Financial Showplace in Novi, Michigan.

The show lasted 7 minutes. It dealt with the angst of a young director (Olivia) trying to coax a performance of the story of the birth of Jesus from a company of young actors. They make it through the play with much difficulty, and Liv's character decides she's had enough. No one will ever know of the awesome miracle of Christmas if this group has anything to say about it. They won't take it serious. She has a fit and storms off the stage. Her distress convinces the young actors to take their play more seriously, and they vow to give it their all. The play ends with their singing, "Hark the Herald Angels Sing."

The kids did a good job despite the difficulty of the set up. The audio system was terrible. Tons of feedback, and it's tough to hear shy kids with noisy microphones. The hustle and bustle of the room was distracting, and there was constant Christmas music being played in the background that the actors had to compete with. But they did it. And they performed the play two more times before surrendering the stage.

Whew. We all were happy that it was over and that it had gone so well.

We spent the rest of the day shopping. It's wasn't a bad time, and we bought some interesting things. Rita brought me to a booth where a woman was selling jars of scented oils as aroma therapy. (I've long been interested in making our house smell nice. I'm constantly on the look out for stinky candles and such. Cinnamon is my favorite. Something about it reminds me of a nice, cozy kitchen.) The oils were very strong, and the lady had descriptions of all the benefits of the various scents. Some were good for clearing your sinuses. Others were effective for curing headaches. Almost all of the scents were listed as being aphrodisiacs. Hot dog. We ended up buying a big jar of vanilla scent for our bedroom. (The woman told us that she gets a lot of people asking her what "aphrodisiacs" are. She tells them that it means "losing weight." I added that it could have that effect if you do it often enough. Ha Ha. Middle age sex jokes. I love 'em.) I also got a little jar of cinnamon scent for my car. Very cool.

We scored some other good stuff, including a couple of gifts. My big prize was an excellent peanut butter cookie. Yummy. Love those cookies.


Wednesday, November 29, 2006

 

Treed Off


At the Butler house, Christmas is in full swing. That's typical for me. I'm a guy who does Christmas year round. I listen to Christmas music over the summer months. I'm already looking forward to starting my Christmas 2007 shopping on December 26. My computer is filled with spreadsheets, databases, and checklists dedicated to the flawless execution of a perfect family holiday.

You have to know that it never works out that way, right?

Since Rita and I got married, our tradition has been to cut down our own tree at a little farm in Belleville. Although I'm pretty choosey, we always seemed to be able to find a very good speciman to plop down in the family room. Alas! Last year, we didn't receive our usual post card advertisement from Thornhollow Tree Farm. When we arrived in December 2005, we found that Thornhollow was closed and in the first stages of being turned into condominiums. (Thank the Lord. Christmas Tree Farms are on every street corner, but you really have to try hard to find a good condominium.) Searching around, we found another place near us, but the results were less than spectacular. The tree, which looked great at the farm, turned out to a hole infested nightmare. It truly was the ugliest tree we'd ever purchased. Worse, it wouldn't drink water and dried out to a hard, crisp, crusty twig before the season was over.

This year, I was determined to find a better place. I went directly to the Nathional Christmas Tree Growers Association website. (Which I have bookmarked in My Favorites. I kid you not.) I found a place just south of Metro Airport. We set out in the early afternoon eager to start a new family tradition. When we arrived, the farm didn't look like what I expected, but that was all right. The trees looked good, and I commented to Rita about how healthy and green they looked. We started walking towards the back of the farm, and about halfway through, we started getting a little concerned that nothing was jumping out at us. Then, we discovered WHY the trees looked so perfectly green - spray paint. Christmas trees by Sherwin Williams. We pressed on, knowing in our hearts that this place was a bust.

Not wanting to waste the rest of the day, we decided to give another chance to the place where we bought our tree last year. No dice. The tractor brought us to the same section of the farm where we cut our tree in 2005. We had our choice of the trees that were too ugly to get cut last year. Twelve months had not made them any more attractive. We left.

As soon as we were home, I fired up the computer and went looking for more tree farms. I finally settled on one that was pretty far away but offered a lot more than Christmas trees. A petting zoo, gift shoppe, food, entertainment, pony rides, etc. We decided to head out the next day. And we would come home WITH a tree.

We arrived at Matthes Evergreen Farm (http://www.matthesevergreenfarm.com/) and were instantly happy with our choice. The trees looked great. Wagons rode slowly through the farm picking up customers and their trees for delivery to the shaking and netting stations. People were friendly and seemed genuinely happy to see us. Even the weather was great. (No coats at the end of November.) It took us about an hour, but we found an excellent (or so we thought) tree. It was beautiful. Isaac insisted on cutting it down himself, and since my age has won out over my pride and desire to appear as young as I used to be, I let him. The first warning sign that we were heading for a tough evening came as Isaac got down on the ground and prepared to cut -

"Hey, this trunk is kind of crooked."

Be quiet, Isaac. We know what we're doing.

The tree came down, was loaded onto the back of a wagon, shaken, wrapped, and stowed in the back of the van. Mission accomplished. We stayed at the farm for another hour having fun. Aidan had his first pony ride and visited Santa.

We got home and rushed to put the tree into its stand so that it would be able to drink. Hmmmm. Won't quite fit. That's bizarre. The trunk was big, but not that big. We tried several times before we concluded that the trunk needed to be trimmed down. We chose a section to cut off, and Isaac went to work. Still, the tree wouldn't fit. We laid it down and saw the reason why. For about the top five feet of the tree, the trunk was perfectly straight. After that, it shot off at an almost 45 degree angle. Yikes.

Rita thought we could make it work, and I hoped she was right. I was fighting massive discouragement, watching my evening bleed away into hours of fighting this tree. We got the tree into the stand, tightened the screws, and checked it. It wouldn't even stand upright without me supporting it. I told the others that I refused to spend the Christmas season holding the tree up. Rita suggested that we get some books to level the tree. I knew this wouldn't work, but I hoped I was wrong. Several dictionaries, textbooks, and pieces of wood later, the tree was propped up and almost straight. But the one side of the stand was so far off the floor that the tree would instantly roll to one side or the other when I let go.

I gave up. I angrily told them that I would stop on my way home from work and get a pre-cut tree. Enough of this useless waste of time. Rita and Isaac wouldn't quit. They were having the time of their lives. I stormed out of the room and got back on the computer. I could hear them laughing at the pathetic tree they were trying to save while I looked for tree lots between my work and home.

After a while, Rita called me back to see the results of their labors.

They had done it.

I was shocked.

They had cut off the crooked part of the trunk, which made the tree far too short to be considered respectable. But it was in the stand and it was straight. Then, they had gotten a short play table from the basement, put a cloth over it, and put the tree on top of the table.

The result was a perfectly beautiful tree that almost reached the ceiling.

It looked great.

And the most important thing is not that they had salvaged a Christmas tree disaster. What was truly beautiful was that they had had a blast doing it. They had laughed together and created a Christmas memory that will probably be with them for the rest of their lives. And I had missed it. Because I had gotten discouraged and angry, I had walked away from what was an important family moment. As I looked at the tree, I really kicked myself for being such a fool. For letting my anger.....

Ah, forget it. I'm just happy I didn't have to buy another tree.

Last night, we finished decorating the tree and putting up my Christmas village. Everything looks great.

Christmas is here! At last!

(Check back often as I intend to dilligently blog throughout the holiday season.)


Wednesday, November 01, 2006

 

Happy Birthday, Isaac


Yesterday, I took a welcome day off from work to spend the day with my eldest son, who turned 15. Hard to believe that it's just over 15 years ago that Rita and I went into the hospital for an induced labor that lasted about 8 hours, if my memory is on the ball.

And life was never the same after that.

Anyway, I got up around 7:00 AM. Since I wasn't going into the office, I had the opportunity to take my morning exercise with our dog, Walker. (He was absolutely thrilled!) After getting cleaned up and dressed, Isaac and I went for our traditional birthday breakfast at the Wayne Coney Island. (Every kid gets breakfast out with Dad on their special day.) I agonized over the menu and briefly thought about splurging for something really fattening before losing my nerve and falling back on my standard, less than exciting choice - oatmeal, milk, and a bagel. Isaac ordered the breakfast special, and almost had an unpleasant surprise when he asked for "hard-boiled" instead of "hard-yoked" eggs. Fortunately, I knew that hard-boiled eggs weren't his style and I caught the error.

Usually, the afternoon of a Butler child's birthday involves the entire family engaging in a activity of the birthday boy's/girl's choice. Depending on age, this usually means a trip to Chuck E. Cheese, Laser Tag, a local science museum, or some other dream getaway. However, since Isaac had already had his birthday treat (a trip to Cedar Point a couple of weeks previously), we settled down for a lazy afternoon at home.

Around 5:00 PM, we had cake and a rather anti-climatic opening of gifts. As Isaac is at the stage where toys no longer satisfy, I popped for a gift certificate for Buy.Com as a present for him. I had ordered it the previous day and asked that it be delivered to his e-mail Inbox. After cake and ice cream, I told Isaac to check his e-mail for his birthday present. He logged in and found -

Nothing!!!!

Happy birthday, ol' buddy!

I logged in at the Buy.Com web site, and my ordered was "being processed at the warehouse." I wonder just what processing an online gift certificate needs before it gets sent out.

Well, he took it in stride, and a few minutes later, we left for our church's annual Harvest Party at Real Life Farms in Canton. There, we roasted hot dogs around a camp fire, sipped hot chocolate, played with a barn full of animals (I took a real liking a calf named Barney. He reminded me of my dog as he was almost as big as Walker. I even got to feed him a bottle of milk.), went on a hay ride, and rode horses. Afterwards, we picked up our bags of candy, went home, and had a delightfully naughty candy eating session before hitting the sheets. We were so juiced by sugar that even I felt a little buzzed.

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