We spent Christmas weekend in Philadelphia with my family, and returned today. There’s nothing like spending Christmas Day on interstate highways; the holiday brings an air of jollity to the maniacal pilotage that the Garden State Parkway necessitates.
The road trip also required hours upon hours of commercial radio Christmas music. I finally stumbled upon the opening chords of Nine Inch Nail’s “Head Like a Hole.” Needing to hear something substantive, I cranked up the volume. “What’s this?” Mr. Pinault asked (Bleak industrial music like NIN never caught on in France). “It’s a Christmas song,” I reassured him. I sang above Trent Reznor, in perfect cadence to the lyrics: “Santa Claus is coming to town. Santa Claus is coming! to! Town! (chorus:) Ho-ho-ho-ho! Ho-ho-ho-ho! … ”
The fact that I currently do not have any contemptuous sentiments to express about Christmas in general should be indicative of the very merry holiday that I had. Pictured to the right is one of my step-mother’s 5000 snowmen-related decorations that adorns their house. I am not exaggerating. Apparently, after someone develops a reputation as a snowman aficionado, over the year, their collection will snowball.
