We Wish You a Trashy Christmas

I spent all of five minutes untangling the string of Christmas lights for my house this weekend. As soon as I'd unraveled them and set out the ladder, Mark attacked me, begging to put them up.

I figured why not? I'd give the kid some responsibility and save myself some work. That, my friends, is what we call a win-win situation.

Unless...your kid is as klutzy as you are. Within two minutes of handing over the task, he tripped on the ladder no less than four times. I'm all for independence, but a busted head is gonna slow down my day. So I sent Mark back to the garage with orders to get this.

It wasn't foolproof, and if he tipped the ladder, he'd probably smash the helmet, but for a moment, I felt like a better parent.

Mark did a great job. He hung two strings of lights in about 10 minutes. After the second string, he jumped off so I could find and attach the extension cord to them. When I turned around, he was climbing the top rung, and surfing on the ladder. The ladder wobbled on the uneven patch of weeds I call my lawn, and Mark let out a whoop of excitement.

"Mark!" I yelled. He immediately stopped, but the ladder swayed precariously for another minute.

"What?" he asked innocently, as though he weren't mere seconds away from death. 

"What?" he repeated, but much quieter this time, more to himself, as he climbed down the ladder.

I admired the lights now covering three-quarters of our roof line.

"Hand me the last box," I said to Mark. He glanced around, shrugged and said, "There is no third box."

I looked high and low for those lights, but Mark was right. They were nowhere to be found. And after trips to three different stores all selling energy-saving LED lights, I found we were in a pickle. No one sells my old-school energy-sucking Christmas lights anymore.

Mark quickly removed himself from the equation.

"I am NOT taking those light down," he told me. I tried convincing him it was way more fun to take them down than to string them up, and that it was more ladder time. He scoffed at me and went inside.

And so my house sits, 3/4 of the roof with lights. 

My cousin Kathleen scolded me, because she knows how I think, and realized I was thinking of just keeping the existing light up.

"That's trashy!" she said haughtily.

"I KNOW," I answered back defensively, like I wasn't planning to do just that. And then, a moment later, I tested the waters. "Um...just how trashy do you think it would be?"

One icy glare told me it would be trashy enough. Looks like I'll be hitting up a fourth store for some new lights tomorrow.

Oy to the World

Sunday night was our annual Christmas dinner and gondola ride. It was the usual gang--me, Edra, Monica, her mom Jan, Vic, her mom Kaye and sister Wende, Randi, Dancing Amy and her former roommate Gretchen, Kathleen and Monica's friend Tony.

My mom also joined us for the first time, taking Mark's place. Mark spent the last two gondola rides being grouchy at dinner, then falling asleep promptly after the boat left the dock. This year I figured I'd spend the money on someone who would a) appreciate it a little more, and b) stay awake! Mark was not happy about the decision, but my mom certainly was.

So Mark stayed at home with my dad. They set up Mark's train, watched T.V. and tried convincing my mom and I to feed them chocolate pie for dinner.

I worried all week that we'd get rained out, but the weather held, and it was a beautiful night.

We went to dinner at a local Greek restaurant, which was yum-my! The food was good, the restaurant was warm, the company was great.

After dinner, it was on to the gondola. We rode in the big boat, which holds 14 people and was expertly rowed by one gondolier in back. We covered ourselves up in thick blankets, and passed around champagne and homemade cookies. Kathleen made these amazing 7-layer cookies, and when we passed them to the gondolier in back, he couldn't stop raving. "Those are so good!" he cried out. "My mouth is so confused by all the layers!"

There was also another gondolier in front, but he had the easy job--making us all laugh. He joked the whole time, doing silly poses, and declaring that Monica was the glue that held us all together. He called out to everybody--on foot, or in other boats on the canal--"Hey, here's Monica! You already know her." We couldn't stop laughing.

He also loved the fact that we had one man--Tony--and 12 women. He kept telling everyone that Tony was the man, and calling on Tony to kiss all the women each time we stopped under a bridge. Tony happily obliged. The gondolier even challenged him to a contest to see who could kiss the most women--I think Tony won, because he kissed Dancing Amy, who's pregnant, and was deemed a kiss and a half. It was hilarious, Tony kissing the women in the back of the boat, the gondolier kissing the women in the front, and then they met in the middle of the boat, and gave each other a friendly hug.

Tony was praised and called "The Man" so many times that at one point, another boat chugged by, and its occupants called out, "Where's Tony? Way to go, Tony!"

Oh, and the houses decorated with lights were pretty spiffy, too. There were the usual displays--the giant Santa face made out of lights, and the house with the roller coaster and Ferris wheel. There were some new entries, too--many Jewish homeowners got into the spirit this year!

My dad asked how I knew they were Jewish, and I answered, "They had blue and white lights, GIANT dreidels, blue menorahs, and flashing Stars of David. And one house had a big sign that said, 'Oy to the World!'" (I loved that!) I'm happy to report that Christians no longer hold a monopoly on ostentatious holiday light displays! :-)

The only bad thing about the gondola ride was how quickly it was over. We spent an hour drifting in the canals, laughing, but it didn't seem that long. Too quickly we were back in the open water, heading toward the dock. The funny gondolier asked if Tony was taking all the women out to celebrate afterwards, and Tony answered back slyly, "I was thinking of just going back to my place." He's such a great sport, that Tony!

It was a great night, all the better because the big storm scheduled to hit us, didn't. At least, it didn't start raining until 45 minutes later--and by then, we were all safe and warm at home.

Chistmas kicked my butt today

(It kicked Mark's booty, too...)

We started the morning with Mark's Cub Scout den, selling fresh mistletoe in front of Trader Joe's. I worried that Mark would whine or complain (because this involved actual work), but he did great.

At first, he was only interested in the money box. He wanted to arrange and rearrange the bills. A few people asked what we were selling, and Mark said, "You can sell it, Mom." I reminded him that no one wants to buy mistletoe from a grown woman--they want to buy it from cute little Cub Scouts.

I gave the kids some advice--smile big and hit up all the moms and grandmas. They can't resist a clean-cut boy in a uniform. Be polite, say thank you. And make eye contact with every person who walks in or out the exit.

It worked! We sold about 100 bag in just under two hours. The boys got very creative, shouting out, "Mistletoe for sale! Only one dollar, and NO tax!" I thought that was a very smart sell, considering the economy.

We only lost one sale the whole morning, when a woman explained what mistletoe is for. "You hang it up and kiss whoever walks under it," she teased, comically puckering up at Mark. He ran away quickly, bag still in hand.

After lunch, we put up the house Christmas lights. I climbed up the little step ladder hanging them while Mark followed behind, handing them up to me. He was very helpful, even warning me not to fall (like last year, when I almost knocked myself out) or cut myself on the broken orange light.

Then it was time for the big Christmas purchase--the TREE! We went to the same lot as last year, because they delivered our tree for a couple extra bucks. Except it was a different group selling trees this year! Dang it. I couldn't figure out how to get a tree home in my little compact car. I drove over to Lowe's to buy myself some time, and perhaps think of a solution.

The solution was...to toss safety out the window! Literally. When you buy a tree, they wrap it up in a mesh bag until it's a skinny little fir tree roll. I figured if I bought a medium-sized tree, I could toss the tree in the back seat, let it hang out the window a bit, and we'd be home in no time, tree (and car) intact.

I just forgot one little thing--the backseat is where Mark sits. And he was not very amenable to riding back there with a Christmas tree on top of him (spoilsport!).

Which left him...the front seat. When we grew up, not only were kids allowed to ride in the front seat, they fought to ride in the front seat. Every car ride of my childhood began with one kid screaming "SHOTGUN!" three other kids groaning, "Awww! No fair!" and one parent yelling, "Just get in the damn car!"

Back then we didn't have fancy front seat airbags--hell, we didn't even have seatbelts. (Or even, for me and my little brother, seats!) But nowadays, they put graphic images of little kids being squished to death by said airbags on the sun visor. Everywhere you turn in the car, it's telling you don't let kids under 12 in the front seat.

Well, those instructions are completely not helpful when it comes to Christmas trees and compact cars. I estimated the ride home was short--only five minutes-- which I've driven a thousand times without an accident.

So front seat airbags be damned, we threw the tree in back, sticking out the window, and Mark in the front seat. He was thrilled. He told me very seriously he wanted to watch me push every button (apparently, he thinks that's how you drive a car), then he set about pushing every button himself.

"What's this button do?" he asked, changing the radio station seven times in a row. "And is A/C on? What's A/C? What's Auto? Can I lock my door?"

It felt kinda funny to have him riding next to me--for once, I didn't feel like his chauffeur. I asked him to stop touching everything--between that and the tree flapping out the window, it was just too distracting. But I let him roll down the window, which he promptly stuck his head out of, and did his best dog impression with the wind whipping through his hair.

Soon enough we were home, and the tree was ceremoniously displayed and decorated. We drank hot chocolate and listened to Christmas music, which he mocked by asking, "Is this your boooooyfriend singing?"

"Yes, this is Harry Connick Jr.," I told him. "Don't talk about your daddy like that!"

In the end, I was really tired, but the house looks great. I am glad to be done with the big Christmas tasks (OK, well, maybe not shopping), even if I have to take it all down again in three or so weeks. But in the meantime, I enjoyed the outside lights and the fresh pine smell inside. And, most of all, I enjoyed the helpful little elf by my side all day.