Well, not really. It’s just that Pam Tillis (or her people) and the Gaylord Opryland people have just been added to the top of my Fecal Roster.
The Pam Tillis dinner show started in one smaller ballroom (that was the first all-nighter) right around Thanksgiving. Yesterday they packed up everything and reset it in the biggest ballroom. So, from 2PM on Wednesday to about 8:30AM on Thursday I was doing some form or wrapping GAC-flex around truss, powering up chainmotors, running cable in the catwalk and ceiling and hanging Christmas ornaments from the ballroom ceiling.
In small doses? Like a regular 8 or 9 hour day? Not so bad. But 18 and half hours?!?!? Ugh. At the moment I’m a little brain dead. So, it makes sense that I should be trying to write something that makes sense to others here.
I’m happy for the new experiences of the rigging world but the hours can suck sometimes. At least I get paid a little more.
My wife was right (once again, sigh). There is just something magical about watching those Christmas specials on regular commercial TV. I received from Netflix the other day three movies. A Charlie Brown Christmas, Frosty the Snowman and Jack Frost (there are more in my queue) arrived in the mail yesterday with all of their holiday splendor. The envelopes even had the Young Extroverted One’s name on them! So, we watched a couple of them last night and it just didn’t seem the same.
There were no cheesey commercial breaks to go refill your hot chocolate or to get more popcorn. Nobody telling me that I need the clapper or a chia pet. (Have you seen the new chia head line? Disturbing.) Or even worse, finding out that I’m not a good husband if I don’t get my lovely wife some sort of ugly diamond pendant. I absolutely hate commercials and I really don’t want to subject YEO to commercials. But, there is something different about putting up with the commercials during the special Christmas shows. Especially as you’re cuddled up with the family on the couch (YEO calls it ‘FAMILY SNUGGLE!’). I guess it just wouldn’t be Christmas without those pesky commercials.
. . . we’ll be right back after these messages . . .