The past couple of years the office parties have been pretty darned drab, off in some short-ceilinged rectangular meeting rooms at Weber's, vs. the big dining area it was in at that establishment my first year on the job. Of course no party at all lacks luster pretty thoroughly. But, I dunno. I'd rather hang out at the office proper than back in one of those boxes. And who knows if I'll ever again want to be in so enclosed a space with so many.
My attempt to Photo Booth myself in the mail room of Santa's workshop
was this: ;
my colleague James had a most adorable work-up of himself in Santa hat and white moustache, with his now long-flowing hair. I love the way some guys are getting shaggy, or have gotten shaggy, as the pandemic continues, and don't do anything about it. They pretty much always look better to me. That groomed short hair thing now seems every bit as anal and silly as it did in 1974.
What else is going on? I've been struggling to catch up in a customer-servicy element of my work that I intend to make a renewed effort to be spared a good chunk of. Decided last night that I'd go ahead and take all of next week off. I haven't done that with that week since, I dunno, I turned single in 2003, but here I am.
Watched Fanny and Alexander again. First time in several years. Maybe only the 3rd time altogether, after seeing it in college, when it was new. I don't think of it as a Christmas movie, but TCM does. There's a lot to love in that film. The scary parts don't seem nearly so scary as they once did. Even more happily, I feel like I understand so much more than I did back then. Seeing such a film at various stages of life has a benefit that way. Early on, I was all with the kids, but now I'm with, like, Helena, who says to dead Oscar how everything broke for her when he died, adding lazily how "Reality has remained broken, and, oddly enough, it feels more real that way.”
It really is a helluva film. HashtagGoals: next year, get the full Swedish TV extended version and watch that. Hell, I watched Holiday every year on New Year's Eve for I dunno how long. Fanny and Alexander maybe isn't done offering me its wonders, its wonder. So gorgeous, and such a mood, letting myself go into its pacing, and through its paces. And faces. They're liked loved distant family to me, like some of the faces in Antonia's Line; I see them only every so often, but they're fundamental, like a home I never came from but belong to.