It’s 9:30am the Sunday after Christmas and I’m defrosting bags of fruit on my dashboard as Jamie, my husband, drives us toward Roseville. We’re late for a post-Christmas breakfast and we’re supposed to bring the fruit. Frozen mangos, frozen strawberries and frozen blackberries slowly show signs of weakening and I mix the fruit together under a blasting vent of hot hot air. Jamie’s got his window rolled down even though it’s raining to try to escape the heat that inevitably permeates the car…

We call that the ghetto defrosting technique. Works for chicken, too, I hear, but fortunately we were only responsible for the fruit.

You ever get the feeling that Christmas is no longer a holiday, but another busy weekend in a life of busy weekends? I’ve gone to 5 different houses and celebrated Christmas 6 times over the past week, opening presents with people I love, opening presents with people I don’t really know, giving presents to people I love and, again, to people I don’t really know. I’ve packed away enough sugar to make the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man look like a joke regardless of how many wacky jacks I do (thanks, P90X, for reminding me that I’m never too old to feel ridiculous). Moreover, tomorrow’s Monday and I, like a few other lucky folks, am getting up at 6:30am to get ready for work. Just another weekend, starting another week.

Cynicism aside, Christmas is actually my favorite holiday and it has been rather wonderful, though over much too soon. Jamie and I drove through the Fabulous 40s (Sacramento’s idea of Beverly Hills, without the awful pinkish terra cotta houses) last week to appreciate all the beautiful lights on all the beautiful homes. Minus one - I know it’s a hit with the kids, but the “Toon” Christmas house is perhaps a bit… how do the English say… twee? Regardless, bravo for the effort and camaraderie of the neighborhood to decorate for this appreciative renter without the means, space or general desire to hang lights (I mean, I’m defrosting fruit on my windshield, remember? I’m not the fanciest person around, even if I do blog about it). I admit, I’d rather drive a few miles to see the rich folk’s work because, in our neighborhood, peeps be taggin’ garbage cans and bumping down the block to obnoxious bass music. Who’s actually going to hang lights and ask to be a target for vandalism? I know I’m not alone, either. I mean, let’s not deny it -- the Fab 40s is the place for lights. And Halloween candy, too, for that matter. Am I right?

But all in all, it was nice to spend Christmas with my family and friends. Everyone had their trees decked out like it was the belle of the ball, each one sparkling in fancy jewels and fine attire…And the company was good. No, the company was great.

Christmas, in general, is great. I don’t care when Jesus was actually born - if my friends and family want to celebrate His birth on the 25th of December, fine with me. Any day is a good day to celebrate that.

Finally, as a tribute to Fancy Pants and the point of the blog, Jamie got me Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Trendy, I know, but oh so fancy pants!!!

Merry Christmas.

Grazie, Signore, for the Gift

It's Christmas. Well, it's, like, two days til. But I think it's fair to say that once the calendar turns to December and that cute little kitten in the Santa hat stares at you from your kitchen wall (trust me, it was better than November's iguana dressed as a turkey--thanks for the free swag, SPCA), it's Christmas. For some reason I got this wild hair to start a blog about something most (average) people could care less about (yet the cool kids still find completely interesting) -- 18th Century fanciness (with the occasional philosophical musing). You're welcome.

The inspiration, by the way, happened today at work. Had to put in a half-day, which was mostly composed of eating cookies, chocolate dog chow (it's a chocolate-covered popcorn snack, fyi), biscotti and doughnuts. The other half was participating in an awesome gift exchange that didn't include buying a present for someone else -- it was all company swag -- and surfing online. I just discovered Amazon.com's wish list, and while I can't purchase everything I want whenever I want it, adding things to a wish list is oddly satisfying. Like I'm shopping without having to spend any money. Honestly, I think I'm more turned on by the seeing and compiling of items (even if it's just in cyberspace) than I am of actually having things in my possession! Yup, my husband is fully supportive of my wish list habits.

Anyway, it's no secret amongst my friends that I like to dress up. I'm a theatre major (as one can easily tell by my spelling of "thea-tra"), and I love costumes. I especially love fancy themes, and nothing says "fancy" like the 1700s. I mean, tell me you don't agree -- wigs, white powder, chandeliers, string quartets, bonbons, Versailles, amazing dresses... all things that give a definite impression of "fancy" in true 18th century style. And while the pannier (the underskirt hoop, not the bike bag or the cheese) kept doorways wider and sitting a bit more difficult, I'd still opt for one of those awesome dresses over jeans, any day.

All that to say, I stumbled upon some fabric choices and Baroque dance instruction DVDs on Amazon and started my list... and started this blog. After all, it's history preservation, and it's fulfilling a potentially expensive shopping habit, so we all benefit.

In order to keep the above things prevalent, I've made it my task to endure to capture such fancy 18th Century fancy-pants trends and write about them with passion and flair.... It's really not a job, it's pretty fun for me. Did I mention I was the drum major in my high school marching band and I'm basically an all-around nerd? Respect the baton, people. Don't mock the gift.

After shopping-by-osmosis, I got all excited about general 18th Century genius and had to watch a period film. I popped in AMADEUS as soon as I got home. While perhaps not a medium for learning all there is to know about the musical genius, the movie, I think, shares an accurate portrayal of 18th Century regalia, and Mozart, regardless of the medium he is portrayed in, is definitely fancy-pants enough for me. So take that, potential highly-educated music know-it-all critic. Movies rock.

But in all seriousness, I am easily influenced by movies, and while I don't remember when I first saw AMADEUS, I know why it still affects me today. First, any man willing to don the period-appropriate attire (i.e., tights, wig and frou frou lace neck piece) is a man of influence in my eyes. Yup, real men wear pink (or other pastels...at least on occasion). Second, Hulce's laugh is genius (as is all the acting). Third, the story is chilling. So here comes the first dose of personal musings and philosophy.

If you've seen the movie, you'll know it's not really about Mozart at all. It's about Salieri and his continuous struggle with God. I think that's what really strikes a "chord" with me, to be musically punny. Here's this musical mastermind (Salieri) who kowtows to his personal feelings of inadequacy and great need for human approval and blames God for Mozart's unique talent. Salieri gives Mozart utter control over his self-worth, completely unbeknownst to Mozart.

"Because you use for your instrument a boastful, lustful, smutty infantile boy and give to me only the ability to recognize the incarnation..." states Salieri as he places the cross with the suffering Jesus in the fire, swearing he and God will be enemies from thence forth.

Ah, how often we blame God for our own feelings of inadequacy and deny Him the honor of being responsible for so many other more wonderful things -- for giving us the ability to hear such music as composed by another, or the ability to see things of great beauty, or the thrill of experiencing things of such stirring quality...
Is experience not a great gift?

I didn't create the pattern or the shape of the 18th Century costume, but I can appreciate it for its beauty. I was not offered a part in AMADEUS, but I have been moved by the actors' performance. I am not everyone's best friend or the life of the party, but the lights shine just as brightly and the food tastes just as delicious. Is not experience that which makes us human? Is not the means through which we experience those things that which makes God, God?

"God was singing through this little man," Salieri admits in defeat and bitterness, speaking of Mozart's "The Marriage of Figaro". Yet he also admits Mozart's music was marvelous. Through jealous teeth, and without appreciation, he admits Mozart's performance was marvelous. That makes me sad. After all, what is the point of experiencing something marvelous without appreciating it?

Indeed, a valuable gift in this life is being able to appreciate God's ingenuity regardless of form, regardless of host.

A lesson learned from 18th Century fancy-pants: Don't mock the gift.