Christmas past

Gary O'

Gary O'

SF VIP
Location
Oregon
A little story...


Some time ago, more'n a dozen years now, we were bringing our grand kids to our house for Christmas.
 I was in a mood.
This mood was driven by the fact that I wanted Christmas to ourselves, on the coast, hiding, eating decadent things, watching the tides from our bed, hanging the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door, humping, sleeping like overfed dogs.
But, n-o-o-o-o, here we were, hauling these two trunk monkeys to our place. And only ‘cause their gramma (namaw) didn’t want them to have a miserable Christmas.
Now, now their drunken father could swill beer and drive, and maybe (be still my heart) smack into a telephone pole, killing only hisself.
And their mother (our daughter) could freely run around with her despicable friends to parties, doing mile long lines of coke, and whatever I don’t care to know.

There they were, in the back seat, smacking each other over the head with The Pokey Little Puppy and Tootles.

We passed an entertainment park.

'ENCHANTED F-O-O-R-R-REST!!!'

‘We had the best time there!’

‘Good rememories.’

A rush of memories came to me too.
The Alice in wonderland path.
Keeping up with them.
Wheezing.
Panting.

They did enjoy themselves though.
Getting lost in the funhouse.
Screaming hysterically midway in the rabbit hole.
Getting cotton candy everywhere.
Buuuut once their namaw calmed me down and cleaned me up, I was good to go.

We were almost home.
The little one, we call him ‘Mayo’, still had a smile on his face as his older brother patted him on his head, wiping his sneeze goo filled hand in his brother’s hair.

As we pulled into the drive, the monkeys, dead asleep, slumped over in their seatbelts like they’d been shot, stirred, jumped up and fought each other to be first in the house, first at the tree, first into the stockings hanging by the tree, giving me a rush of rememories too.

We played table games as namaw cooked, wrestled in the living room until we knocked off some yuletide dainties, and shot pellet guns in the back yard.

Little did I know that that Christmas was gonna be one of the best times ever for them…….and for this old humbug too.
 

Increased smilage! :) ....thanks, Gary!


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another old 'rememory';

Shopping

My lady, in yule mode, cranks out knitted and crocheted slippers for everyone on the same limb of the family tree. Sometimes a full blown afghan or two come to being.
They’ve been great, money saving gifts.

I, for the most part, every year, swear off buying anybody anything…it’s a humbug….then, some invisible ‘Christmas Present’ angel from hades baps me on the head around 7:30 pm, Christmas eve, and I grab a bat and my ol’ football helmet and venture thru the malls.

There have been times that I’ve had an epiphany and made the grandkids things, things of wood, forts, chests, ‘things they’ll treasure’ (my elfin mind tells me). So, for 2-3 weeks before that blessed day, every evening after work, I’d be seen in my shop, sawing, joining, planing, staining, finishing, smashing my elfin thumbs, cursing, swearing, waving my elfin arms……yeah, epiphanies….everybody should have one a them %@#&*$ epiphanies

Other times, years ago, my bride and I would find ourselves waiting for stores to open at 4 am.
It couldn’t be helped.
The glisten in her eyes from anticipation of early morning adventures swayed me to wake in the dead of night on black Friday eve, tiptoe past slumbering chickens, and sit in the mall parking lot, staring at the line of crazed humanity already encircling the electronics store like it was Jericho.
One time she joined the horde, unsuccessfully coaxing me to follow.

There I sat, flashlight and crossword in hand, hair askew, bedbeard looking like I was in a crosswind…..stomach chatting with me.
Two minutes to 4, I rubbed the fog off the side window.
The crazies were jostling for position.
I lost sight of the wife somewhere around the corner of the building.
I slap on my fishing cap and begrudgingly leave the refuge of the Buick.
The doors open.
The guy with the keys gets carried away with the mob. Only thing you can see of him is his flailing arms.
I stroll in with the first 50 shoppers that will get the TV special, getting a glimpse of the wife swimming past, heading to the TV dept….only the specials were all up front. The guy with the keys and foot prints on his shirt, points me the way.
Half hour later, here she comes, TV in cart.
I, TV in trunk, am on the 2nd crossword.
We’re not done…there’s a mere 27 other stores that have free snow globes, free coffee, and free donuts…….the frenzy has only begun.
So we secure her TVs, and make our way upstream, pointing to the trunk as we stroll back inside, making sure the parking lot thieves can know where at least two of the 50 TVs can still be had.
Two hours later, with globes clutched by jittering caffeine induced hands, the furrowed brows on my powdered sugar countenance lets the wife know I’m a couple clicks past jolly…and we go home….blessed home…..


Now, shopping for people at the mall has been great entertainment for my lady and I.
We just sit on a bench, munching on popcorn, and watch mothers drag their screaming little darlings along.....and their husbands (but less screaming...some).
We once set by one of those quarter horses (put a quarter in the slot), and noted the parent's varied techniques in skirting quarter out-put;

1st dad: DON'T TOUCH IT!!! Tazing his precious antiseptic germ distribution unit with his Neosporin gun.

2nd dad: sets his kid on and fakes putting a coin in, then shakes the crap outta the machine, making periodic wheenying noises.....

3rd dad: points the opposite direction, noting wonderful toy stores around the corner, while briskly whisking his kid by the horsey.


Its great fun.
…and it's quite thrifty.

 
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