Now, remember all this stuff happened in the year 2000, so don't go getting all emotional on me. And, don't notice that this is posted in August and that the story is about Christmas. We can have crises any time of the year.
Frankie and I bought a live white pine Christmas tree (the kind with a root ball), and put it in a huge red bucket in the living room. This was a first for me. In my first marriage we always had a plastic tree or a cut tree that shed needles all over the living room, but never one that I had to feed a tray of ice everyday!
After going through the bedraggled box of ornaments leftover from our other marriages, we bought some ornaments of our own to personalize and decorate the tree. Frankie loves Christmas and I, well.... you know my take on holiday hoopla. It seems different this year even though there are no children living with us who are curiously snooping under the tree wondering what Santa brought them. Frankie’s 15-year-old son, Steve, is the youngest of all our children. He is here visiting to celebrate Christmas with us. We’ll have a dinner here with the blended family and pretend that we are the Brady Bunch.
My Son and Anna moved into an apartment last week. My ex-husband gave them the old plastic Christmas tree that we’d used for years when we were pretending to be a family. You know the one that kept falling over? How generous of him. Somehow the stand didn’t make it to the apartment. I brought over the stand that Frankie had used during his years with cut trees. Mom, Anna, and I tried to get it to stand up, but the metal screws in the stand had nothing to grip on the slick skinny pole of the fake tree. We propped the tree in the corner and threw some leftover ornaments on it. Merry Christmas! Anna took it down last week after it fell over for the fifth time.
Frankie’s car finally died. The engine locked up and was leaking yellowish brown stuff from underneath. We’ll check into a rebuild after the holidays. Elsie, Frankie’s oldest daughter, gave birth to a son on the 21st. His name is Jackie. They are planning to move here after the first of the year. I am looking forward to spending more time with the grandkids.
Showing posts with label Christmas humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas humor. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Take Down That Plastic Christmas Tree!
I took that damn plastic tree down two days before Christmas. Then, I went to Georgia for Christmas to see my family. I feared having another emotional temper tantrum like I did at Thanksgiving, but I was okay. I promise that I will find my sense of humor and write to you in a better mood. At this rate, I won’t have to wait long; my moods change hourly. It reminds me of the color wheel we used to put in front of the aluminum tree when I was a kid. I just sit here and watch myself change colors. Happy, Sad, Numb, Happy, Sad, Numb…
(1997)
(1997)
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Holiday Mayhem
Our Christmas holidays this year were a memorable event. My stepson, Steve decided not to go with us to visit my family in Georgia, so we took Java, our 6-month-old chocolate Labrador puppy instead. I made sure Frankie did everything he needed to and he made sure I loaded everything I needed to.
After cleaning the second mess, we were undeterred and confident that Java’s tummy was empty. We started again with fresh linens on the backseat. Approximately three miles down the road the all too familiar retching began. Before we could pull over, the expected delivery arrived. We pulled over and quickly evacuated. I was nearly doubled over with laughter while handing our stock of Burger King napkins to my exasperated husband, who was scraping yet another pile of puke. Reloaded, or should I say unloaded, we were on the road again after we stopped at a service station to sponge off the seat. Wouldn’t you know? The dog made a direct hit on the only part of the seat that was not covered.
About 30 miles down the highway, the dog was calmly sleeping while Frankie and I were singing Christmas carols with Bruce Springsteen. In the middle of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town," Frankie hushed abruptly and had a strange look on his face. I thought HE was going to throw up.
“What?”
“Aw, NO!,” he said.
“What?…..WHAT?!” I asked.
“The gifts! You forgot to get the presents from under the tree.”
“Who forgot?! You were supposed to get them while I fed the dog.”
“You weren’t SUPPOSED to feed the dog. Dogs puke in the car when you feed them before they ride.”
“We have to go back home. Turn around at the next exit. And if the dog pukes, YOU’RE cleaning it up”
“Oh, that would be different!” We both burst out laughing.
Steve was building a fire in the fireplace when we arrived home. He looked shocked to see us. We told him our story and sometime during the commotion he asked if glass bottles would melt if heated. Neither of us was paying much attention to him because we were busy pulling presents from under the tree. Since we had tended to one another’s business enough for one day, I didn’t look to make sure Frankie got all the gifts on the side of the tree he was checking.
We made it to Atlanta about two hours later than expected. We enjoyed our overnight trip, the opening of gifts, and dinner with my family, but beneath the fun, I dreaded the ride home. I didn’t let Frankie feed the dog before we left mom’s house and amazingly she did not get sick. Instead, she slept all the way home while I drove. I think it was Frankie’s driving that made her puke.
When we arrived home, the house smelled smokey but I thought Steve had burned something in the microwave again. When I asked him about it, he replied that there was a downdraft in the chimney that blew smoke into the room and mysteriously put out the fire he had built. Seventeen-year-old males are very unpredictable and curious, and they can give the most logical reasons for why strange things are really normal. Step-moms have a gullible way of believing the most bazaar stories and being surprised when finding they aren’t true.
(2001)
Since we were so adept at minding one another’s business, it didn’t occur to either of us that we might be forgetting something. We had a few errands to do and our first stop was Blockbusters to drop off some videos we had rented. All was going well until we stopped to get a bite to eat.
While in the drive through at Burger King, the dog started making “that” sound. You know the one that means, “Grab a bucket, quick!” We weren’t quick enough, and Java came unfed on the backseat of my car. I got her out of the car while Frankie flung the pile of puke into the landscaping behind the speaker box of the drive up window. That’s when I noticed we didn’t have a leash with us. I dragged the dog by the collar around the BK parking lot trying to lead her to a grassy area to finish her commotion. Frankie was pretty upset as he drove to the next window to pick up our food. Java and I ran to catch up to the departing vehicle. We were only a couple of miles from our house but Java threw up in the car again before we got home.
After cleaning the second mess, we were undeterred and confident that Java’s tummy was empty. We started again with fresh linens on the backseat. Approximately three miles down the road the all too familiar retching began. Before we could pull over, the expected delivery arrived. We pulled over and quickly evacuated. I was nearly doubled over with laughter while handing our stock of Burger King napkins to my exasperated husband, who was scraping yet another pile of puke. Reloaded, or should I say unloaded, we were on the road again after we stopped at a service station to sponge off the seat. Wouldn’t you know? The dog made a direct hit on the only part of the seat that was not covered.
About 30 miles down the highway, the dog was calmly sleeping while Frankie and I were singing Christmas carols with Bruce Springsteen. In the middle of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town," Frankie hushed abruptly and had a strange look on his face. I thought HE was going to throw up.
“What?”
“Aw, NO!,” he said.
“What?…..WHAT?!” I asked.
“The gifts! You forgot to get the presents from under the tree.”
“Who forgot?! You were supposed to get them while I fed the dog.”
“You weren’t SUPPOSED to feed the dog. Dogs puke in the car when you feed them before they ride.”
“We have to go back home. Turn around at the next exit. And if the dog pukes, YOU’RE cleaning it up”
“Oh, that would be different!” We both burst out laughing.
Steve was building a fire in the fireplace when we arrived home. He looked shocked to see us. We told him our story and sometime during the commotion he asked if glass bottles would melt if heated. Neither of us was paying much attention to him because we were busy pulling presents from under the tree. Since we had tended to one another’s business enough for one day, I didn’t look to make sure Frankie got all the gifts on the side of the tree he was checking.
We made it to Atlanta about two hours later than expected. We enjoyed our overnight trip, the opening of gifts, and dinner with my family, but beneath the fun, I dreaded the ride home. I didn’t let Frankie feed the dog before we left mom’s house and amazingly she did not get sick. Instead, she slept all the way home while I drove. I think it was Frankie’s driving that made her puke.
When we arrived home, the house smelled smokey but I thought Steve had burned something in the microwave again. When I asked him about it, he replied that there was a downdraft in the chimney that blew smoke into the room and mysteriously put out the fire he had built. Seventeen-year-old males are very unpredictable and curious, and they can give the most logical reasons for why strange things are really normal. Step-moms have a gullible way of believing the most bazaar stories and being surprised when finding they aren’t true.
The next day we were cleaning house in preparation for our Christmas Eve dinner, when Frankie noticed an unusual amount of soot on the furniture as he dusted. When I mopped the tile in front of the fireplace black streaks appeared as if I was painting with the mop. I knew something was amiss when I saw pieces of glass on the floor. When I opened the doors to the fireplace, I found two somewhat melted, very exploded beer bottles scattered among the ashes. Who did the kid think he was fooling? Why didn’t he at least remove the evidence? Frankie and I drew straws to see who was going to spank the lad first.
Later that day, we had to make a trip to the Food Lion to pick up some last minute items for the meal. We decided that perhaps all Java needed was more practice riding in the car in order to be healed of her motion sickness. Food Lion is less than two blocks from our house and we thought that would be a good trial run. The pup puked as soon as the tires of my car hit the bump at the end of our driveway. That dog just can’t hold her groceries.
The day after Christmas I mailed my mom’s gift that had been left underneath Frankie’s side of the tree. Next year, when we make our holiday trip, we plan to make a list, check it twice, and then borrow a car from someone who’s been naughty.
Later that day, we had to make a trip to the Food Lion to pick up some last minute items for the meal. We decided that perhaps all Java needed was more practice riding in the car in order to be healed of her motion sickness. Food Lion is less than two blocks from our house and we thought that would be a good trial run. The pup puked as soon as the tires of my car hit the bump at the end of our driveway. That dog just can’t hold her groceries.
The day after Christmas I mailed my mom’s gift that had been left underneath Frankie’s side of the tree. Next year, when we make our holiday trip, we plan to make a list, check it twice, and then borrow a car from someone who’s been naughty.
(2001)
Monday, December 15, 2008
Mama's Visit
Well, mama came as she promised. She drove all the way from Georgia on Tuesday night, and by morning she had everything dragged out of the attic and had that sick-looking seven-foot plastic tree standing in the corner. No decorations, mind you. She had to be back for choir practice on Wednesday night. So, she strewed the fa-la-la-la shit all over the living room and left.
I know she thought she was being helpful, but she has to learn to respect my need to sulk and feel sorry for myself. The Xmas stuff laid here for four days until My Daughter finally got tired of tripping over boxes. She randomly threw three strings of lights and two-dozen ornaments on the tree. If mom doesn’t come back after Christmas and put this mess back into the attic, the tree will still be in the living room come Easter. It probably won’t be standing though. It has fallen over three times already, once on top of My Daughter. My Husband is doing the holiday shopping, cause like I said before; I’m on strike from holiday hoopla.
My Son’s car has a new hood ornament in keeping with the holiday spirit. He un-expectantly went reindeer hunting on Noblesville Road last week. He hit a deer and went off the road into a ditch. A man in a pickup truck following behind him saw what happened and pulled the Camaro out with a rope. The front grill of the Camaro has reindeer antlers. I suggested that he take some of this crappy tinsel from the living room and decorate his car.
I’m experiencing a loss of concentration. I’ve made so many mistakes at work over the last few weeks; it’s not even funny. I almost sent the Mayor to a luncheon today that wasn’t until next Wednesday. That would have been horrible especially since he crashed the wrong party last week on his own. There he was shaking hands and introducing himself, and eating these peoples’ food when he realized he was at the wrong house.
Mom says she thinks I’m still depressed. That’s funny. How could I be depressed? I don’t have any problems. Life has been a bowlful of "cheeries" or cherries – with pits!
I know how to cure depression. I went to the mall. I ended up at Victoria’s No-Secret. I figure if I’m going to die from sorrow, I may as well look sexy and smell good. Dillard’s was having a clearance sale, so while I was in the mall, I decided to help them clear their inventory. I dread seeing the Visa bill in January.
My Daughter tried to cheer me up. She gave me some of her teenager clothes, and I didn’t have any better sense than to wear them. Speaking of bills, the phone statement seems to indicate that My Son and his girlfriend in Ohio are still an item. I have a new girlfriend named Jean. She is having an affair with Jesus. We’ll see how long our relationship lasts.
I’ve gotta go for now. I feel like crying the holiday blues.
SadSpressy
(1997)
I know she thought she was being helpful, but she has to learn to respect my need to sulk and feel sorry for myself. The Xmas stuff laid here for four days until My Daughter finally got tired of tripping over boxes. She randomly threw three strings of lights and two-dozen ornaments on the tree. If mom doesn’t come back after Christmas and put this mess back into the attic, the tree will still be in the living room come Easter. It probably won’t be standing though. It has fallen over three times already, once on top of My Daughter. My Husband is doing the holiday shopping, cause like I said before; I’m on strike from holiday hoopla.
My Son’s car has a new hood ornament in keeping with the holiday spirit. He un-expectantly went reindeer hunting on Noblesville Road last week. He hit a deer and went off the road into a ditch. A man in a pickup truck following behind him saw what happened and pulled the Camaro out with a rope. The front grill of the Camaro has reindeer antlers. I suggested that he take some of this crappy tinsel from the living room and decorate his car.
I’m experiencing a loss of concentration. I’ve made so many mistakes at work over the last few weeks; it’s not even funny. I almost sent the Mayor to a luncheon today that wasn’t until next Wednesday. That would have been horrible especially since he crashed the wrong party last week on his own. There he was shaking hands and introducing himself, and eating these peoples’ food when he realized he was at the wrong house.
Mom says she thinks I’m still depressed. That’s funny. How could I be depressed? I don’t have any problems. Life has been a bowlful of "cheeries" or cherries – with pits!
I know how to cure depression. I went to the mall. I ended up at Victoria’s No-Secret. I figure if I’m going to die from sorrow, I may as well look sexy and smell good. Dillard’s was having a clearance sale, so while I was in the mall, I decided to help them clear their inventory. I dread seeing the Visa bill in January.
My Daughter tried to cheer me up. She gave me some of her teenager clothes, and I didn’t have any better sense than to wear them. Speaking of bills, the phone statement seems to indicate that My Son and his girlfriend in Ohio are still an item. I have a new girlfriend named Jean. She is having an affair with Jesus. We’ll see how long our relationship lasts.
I’ve gotta go for now. I feel like crying the holiday blues.
SadSpressy
(1997)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Christmas Boycott 1998
This is to inform you that I’m not sending Christmas cards this year. I’m too busy trying not to have a nervous breakdown. My life has become a little too crazy. We moved here just over a year ago, my daughter was having trouble adjusting to the move. She was hospitalized with mono, and then she had surgery a month afterward to remove her tonsils. She hates her new school and her grades reflect it. My son graduated high school, brought home a python, and a bearded dragon. He took on an alcoholic, suicidal roommate with an alligator and a crocodile. We’ve had a runaway dog rescue mission, and I murdered my son’s dragon. I started working a new job. We redecorated the house, but I still do not like the floor plan.
Anyway, that’s why I’m not having Christmas this year. I’m not putting up a tree. I’m not decorating the house or buying gifts. I’ve given all I can give. I’m on strike.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Dear Daughter,
I got your message and it sounds like you need help. I’m packing my bags now, and I’ll be there in a few hours. Don’t you worry; mama dearest is on her way.
Anyway, that’s why I’m not having Christmas this year. I’m not putting up a tree. I’m not decorating the house or buying gifts. I’ve given all I can give. I’m on strike.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Dear Daughter,
I got your message and it sounds like you need help. I’m packing my bags now, and I’ll be there in a few hours. Don’t you worry; mama dearest is on her way.
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