skeptical killjoy crankypants curmudgeon

Last night I met up with SW. We had noodles and then went to see a Choral concert at Carnegie Hall. I was kind of all over the place. Sitting, sweating, itching, twitching, falling asleep. It was a lot of glory to God in Latin. But every once in a while the music would get me. The Cum Sancto Spiritu of Vivaldi's Gloria is a real rocker. There were also passages in the Handel and the Haydn that had me bobbing my head to the music and kinda rocking in my seat. Which I am sure was as appalling as me softly snoozing there. They closed with an adorable soulful rendition of the Hallelujah from Handel's Messiah. I mean literally a soulful/gospel arrangement of the work.

Which was fun and very cute but a little strange. It's hard to corral that large a group of people to sing the same vocal runs and stay together. This makes carrying off the arrangement challenging. I was kind of laughing about this (I meant in a friendly way. I did actually enjoy it.) to some people afterwards and SSl said something that I will paraphrase as - he listens to music and likes it but doesn't really dissect it.

I am that person. The skeptical killjoy crankypants curmudgeon. It appears that my brain is too overly engaged in my life.

I was telling JP that I went over to DP's house to bake cookies and there was a bit of tension because I insisted that there was an order to how things should be mixed into cookie dough. Butter with sugar, then the egg and vanilla. The flour and salt and baking powder measured and mix separately and then everything combined together. DP lifted an eyebrow at me, a bit taken aback, but was gracious enough to humor me. I had fallen into baking mode. There is chemistry in baking, so why not follow protocol. JP thought that the point was to have fun and bake together, not to be a cookie tyrant. And that this was badly done on my part.

Skeptical killjoy crankypants curmudgeon.

I find that when I read or see something that I think or know is scientifically inaccurate it really chaps my hide. I was reading this really delightful book about a guy who leaves New York for Italy to learn to make wine. And I was with him. Just riding along with him until he said that yeast are bacteria. (This was said in regard to the fermentation process.) And I had to put the book down for several days. Yeast are definitely not bacteria. It's called chromatin, it's called a nucleus. It's called years of evolution and different life strategies.

Skeptical killjoy crankypants curmudgeon.

I saw a commercial in which a guy talked about moldy yeast in the cheese making process. Yeast and Mold are related but they are not the same. Yeast -> bread, beer. Mold -> penicillin, blue cheese.

Skeptical killjoy crankypants curmudgeon.

I was listening to the Decemberists song, "Red Right Ankle," which I have always loved. But yesterday I actually listened to the lyrics.

"This is the story of your red right ankle
And how it came to meet your leg
And how the muscle, bone, and sinews tangled
And how the skin was softly shed
And how it whispered, "Oh, adhere to me
For we are bound by symmetry
And whatever differences our lives have been
We together make a limb"
This is the story of your red right ankle"
- The Decemberists

This may be the most romantic and passionate description of limb formation ever written, but it doesn't sound correct to me. The lyrics give one the impression that the leg and the ankle form separately and then fuse together. And I'm pretty sure that this is not how it goes. The passage is so beautiful. It is also, very suspicious and miraculous.

Skeptical killjoy crankypants curmudgeon.

So there is it. I take the fun out of everything. The beauty and mystery too. Spoiling my pleasure and that of those around me. A Bert in an Ernie world. Well, don't worry, I am likely to get mine in the end. Placebo effect? What placebo effect?

Be Merry this Christmas, Darlings. Be ever so very merry for whatever winter holiday you observe.

xo