A couple of days ago I had scheduled “Miracle on 34th Street” as the movie to watch, but ran out of time. So I went to pull it off my shelf tonight only to discover it was not there. I know I owned it at one time. I have no idea where it is right now. This makes me very very sad.
So instead I watched the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular on Netflix.
I’ve only ever seen the Rockettes in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and I wasn’t sure I’d really enjoy 80 minutes of kicklines (isn’t that all they’re famous for?). But it wasn’t too bad (there was even a little bit of The Nutcracker!), and it does seem like one of those quintessentially American Christmas traditions that everyone should experience. Even if only by the magic of Netflix.
The Rockettes have always fascinated me, mostly because of the uniformity. Not just their dancing, but also their appearance. They all seem to be the same height, same build. It’s a little unsettling that whoever owns the dance troupe can find so many women who are basically clones.
(If we have a snow day tomorrow, I’m totally renting Miracle on 34th Street from Amazon and watching it, though.)
Today’s sad song: A classic. Perhaps the very definition of the sad Christmas song.