merry christy.
In order to shake things up a bit, the family Lee booked a cabin in Yosemite. The plan: spend Christmas week hiking, biking and ah-haing surrounded by mountain meadows and flowing streams. It was going to be like opening that page in Oprah Magazine, the one with a peaceful vista covering an entire spread. Except for a week.
Three days before departure, I think everyone was getting nervous. Although nobody has said it, as the rain began to fall, the trip began to lose the "Oprah's aha moment" vibe and take on more of a I'm-freezing-my-ass-off; how-many-"Clue"-games-can-we-really-play? vibe. So, when I collapsed on my couch with a bad case of strep throat, nobody seemed very sad.
My mom didn't even complain too much about having to unpack all the gifts and food and clothes...the family cheerfully referred to my illness as a "Godsend".
I spent the first part of the week holed up on my couch, drinking soup and tea and thanking God for Penicillin, and replaying the exact moment in third period when a certain student got very close to me, allegedly to ask me a grammar question, and then coughed 5 times into my face. 5 short, staccato coughs. Cover your mouth! I barked, springing back in alarm. But it was too late.
I headed down to the homestead on Christmas eve morning, still feeling a little woozy. When I arrived my mom was holding a dvd box. She asked if I remembered the show "Christy". I did remember:
"Christy" fits into the same genre as "Little House on the Prairie". Set in 1912, it chronicles the adventures of Christy Huddleston, a feisty schoolmarm who moves to the backwoods of the Appalachians. Along the way, she meets and promptly enchants two men: a forthright young minister with high ideals and a rugged, intelligent doctor with a mysterious past.
Hello? Who wouldn't be hooked? The Lee ladies settled in around noon. Come 6:00, we looked at one another and said we supposed we should take a stab at celebrating Christmas. We fixed supper, read the Christmas story, and hung and filled stockings. Sang some carols. Around 9:30, we looked at one another. Another episode, someone said, in a joking tone. But nobody laughed.
I mean, I could, if anybody else wants to...
We were in front of the new flat screen within 5 minutes.
We're still watching. At this point, we're all talking in quaker accents. Early this morning, we skipped ahead to the final show and realized that the whole thing ends in a cliff-hanger: Christy stands between the two men, looking tortured and doe-eyed, and...freezeframe.
Apparently, there was not enough funding and support for a second season, so our heroine remains forever wild-eyed and confused.
We could be described similarly. We jumped online to figure out why the show was cancelled, but we could find nothing. No explanation. Just a few chatrooms devoted to fans of the the rugged doctor "Neil MacNeil" and the knowledge that a town in Tennessee hosts an annual "Christy-fest".
Our conversation since has been punctuated with ideas about how the show could have been saved. We blame the writers, whose unrealistic, melodramatic plots eventually choked the series.
Yet we still watch. We're putting in another one as I type.
So, lj friends, I bid you happy holidays. And, as Jenny put it, from the Lees,
Merry Christy.
Three days before departure, I think everyone was getting nervous. Although nobody has said it, as the rain began to fall, the trip began to lose the "Oprah's aha moment" vibe and take on more of a I'm-freezing-my-ass-off; how-many-"Clue"-games-can-we-really-play? vibe. So, when I collapsed on my couch with a bad case of strep throat, nobody seemed very sad.
My mom didn't even complain too much about having to unpack all the gifts and food and clothes...the family cheerfully referred to my illness as a "Godsend".
I spent the first part of the week holed up on my couch, drinking soup and tea and thanking God for Penicillin, and replaying the exact moment in third period when a certain student got very close to me, allegedly to ask me a grammar question, and then coughed 5 times into my face. 5 short, staccato coughs. Cover your mouth! I barked, springing back in alarm. But it was too late.
I headed down to the homestead on Christmas eve morning, still feeling a little woozy. When I arrived my mom was holding a dvd box. She asked if I remembered the show "Christy". I did remember:
"Christy" fits into the same genre as "Little House on the Prairie". Set in 1912, it chronicles the adventures of Christy Huddleston, a feisty schoolmarm who moves to the backwoods of the Appalachians. Along the way, she meets and promptly enchants two men: a forthright young minister with high ideals and a rugged, intelligent doctor with a mysterious past.
Hello? Who wouldn't be hooked? The Lee ladies settled in around noon. Come 6:00, we looked at one another and said we supposed we should take a stab at celebrating Christmas. We fixed supper, read the Christmas story, and hung and filled stockings. Sang some carols. Around 9:30, we looked at one another. Another episode, someone said, in a joking tone. But nobody laughed.
I mean, I could, if anybody else wants to...
We were in front of the new flat screen within 5 minutes.
We're still watching. At this point, we're all talking in quaker accents. Early this morning, we skipped ahead to the final show and realized that the whole thing ends in a cliff-hanger: Christy stands between the two men, looking tortured and doe-eyed, and...freezeframe.
Apparently, there was not enough funding and support for a second season, so our heroine remains forever wild-eyed and confused.
We could be described similarly. We jumped online to figure out why the show was cancelled, but we could find nothing. No explanation. Just a few chatrooms devoted to fans of the the rugged doctor "Neil MacNeil" and the knowledge that a town in Tennessee hosts an annual "Christy-fest".
Our conversation since has been punctuated with ideas about how the show could have been saved. We blame the writers, whose unrealistic, melodramatic plots eventually choked the series.
Yet we still watch. We're putting in another one as I type.
So, lj friends, I bid you happy holidays. And, as Jenny put it, from the Lees,
Merry Christy.