We Won't Go Until We Get Some.

I am not remotely done with the Christmas songs.

Whilst in the car the other day, Nora and I heard the cheerful lyrics of We Wish You A Merry Christmas. This is one of those songs that, for me, is so completely ingrained in my mind and memory of Christmas that I have fully stopped noticing the words. Until the car ride. Can you imagine if actual carolers came to your door one night? (This sort of merriment may occur in more refined and neighborhoody places- but if someone rings the bell in Albany Park after 8pm, your left hand's on the door and a Louisville Slugger's in your right.)

Okay, with me so far? It's late at night (yes, 8pm is LATE) and people are non-violently in front of your house. They are singing at you- which, as anyone with a schoolyear birth date can attest- can be rather awkward.

And then they want snacks.

Not just any snacks.

Pudding.

Figgy pudding.

(At this point in the song I'm wondering if 'figgy pudding' is the kind of treat that these folks are used to in the comfort of their own homes, or if they're just hoping to hit the snack lottery. Like if I went to my neighbor's house and screamed "Mussels fra diavolo!")

All of the aforementioned is weird, right? Especially towards the end of the song when they start outright demanding it. Give it right here. Merry Christmas.

Side note- (Also, did you know that 'Side Note' is the actual title to this blog?)- ever since my scree on Dominick the Donkey, it now plays no less than four times a night on our XM radio. P.J. can back me up on this, since it's usually he who sprints to change the channel.

And on the topic of radio stations, does anyone in Chicago listen to Lite FM's Christmas Wish shebang? (That is not the real name, I was just feeling jaunty.) Basically, people call or write in with their big Christmas wish and the radio station grants them multiple times per day. (I have tried to figure out a rhyme or reason or schedule for these free-for-alls. I cannot.)

Early in the season, I briefly entertained the idea of writing and begging for a Vespa or a closet with a shelf or two and a lightbulb. Then, once I heard the wishes being fulfilled on the air, I realized why I could never ever ever go through with my paltry demands.

These folks that get chosen? They have STORIES. Most of them have lost their jobs, someone in the family's always ridiculously sick and/or has died, the Mom has run off in more than a few of the cases, and no one has socks.

The only thing we really have in common is that I do not currently possess an abundance of matched, non-holey socks.

And they want one present for their kid. Or something to make for Christmas dinner. This one woman the other morning was the sole breadwinner for her son and his kids ('cause the mother had run off and her son had lost his job.) She was 72.

These stories always make me tear up and make me feel like the spoiled, white, middle class kid that I am. They're wishing for a special meal and I'm whining about carbs.

So to add to the mother guilt and Catholic guilt and American guilt...I can now safely acknowledge my Christmas guilt.

So I donated to the Arbor Day Foundation. (Yes, I am a card-carrying member, thankyouverymuch.)

And I gave to St. Jude's Children Hospital. (I CANNOT handle the St. Jude letters. Ugly cry x a million.)

And we adopted a family for Christmas presents.

We over-tipped our paper route kid and mail carrier and cat sitter.

Basically, I am trying to be generous and thank those around me and attempt to atone for the fact that, the other eleven months of the year, I am a horrid human being who does not eat bread crusts and instead throws them away.

I will strive to be less awful in 2011.

Anyone have any favorite charities that I haven't even realized I should acknowledge and fret over? Please list them below. 2011= Philanthropy Year!

Peej is gonna love this one.