Tag Archives: Christmas

5

Dollar Disappointment

|

My family has always exchanged stockings on Christmas morning. When I was little, the goodies always included a red apple, a yellow apple, an orange and a tangerine. I remember being disappointed that Santa was so health conscious. All I’d ever seen him eat were cookies. Years later, my son commented on always receiving shampoo and body wash in his stocking. You never see Santa bathing or changing his clothes either. I’m guessing Mrs. Claus has some influence on what gets included.

At one point, I spent a lot of money on stocking stuffers. (The amount I spend has never had any direct correlation with the amount I have, by the way.) I would wander the malls looking for things that would fit in a stocking. There are more than you might imagine. One day, a friend finally explained to me that the concept behind a stocking was that it was filled with little inexpensive things like candy canes and chocolate Santas. Oh. Like the idea that you break up with someone before you give him the expensive gift. I never was good with money.

Enter the dollar store. My first experience with dollar stores was not positive. It was located in a strip mall where I worked. The neighborhood had seen better days (I hope). It was poorly lit, crowded with merchandise, and not very clean. From what I looked at, the reason it was crowded with merchandise was that no one would take that stuff at any price. I could not understand why everyone was raving about dollar stores. Were my friends really that cheap?

A few years went by. I got another job, and drove past a dollar store every day on the way to work. One day I stopped to look around. It was incredible. There were office supplies, craft supplies, school supplies, candy, wrapping paper, all sorts of things. They even had the metallic pipe cleaners my son used to make rabbits (they look better than they sound). I’m not really a shopper, but I looked at everything. I was totally hooked. At Christmas, I fully stuffed all the stockings for under $50.

My dollar store was not part of a chain, so you can guess what happened next. I drove by one day and the owner had sold the shop. The new owner must have been related to the first shop owner I encountered. I was traumatized. I was not going back to spending $7.95 for a Mylar balloon. I had to find a replacement.

My next stop was what I’ll call a pseudo-dollar store. It’s a national chain. A lot of the stuff was one dollar, but the rest was brand-name at discounted prices. This store was the source of most of the health and beauty supplies I bought for a few years. They even had fashion-name make-up for a dollar. It had to be labeled ‘discontinued color’, but in Michigan who knows the difference? The odds of running into Beyonce wearing last year’s eyeliner are pretty low. Alas, I had just made the full commitment when it disappeared.

They opened a dollar store a few miles away from our house. Coincidentally, it’s the same chain that has a store on my way to work. My daughter wanted to stop by one night. It was great! The candy, the pens, the wrapping paper. All was well in the dollar world again. Last Christmas I even bought some nice wrapping paper at the one close to work.

Things were a little crazy this year getting ready for Christmas. Both my daughter and my mother have been ill, so shopping took a back seat to that. I didn’t get to stocking stuffers until two days before Christmas. No big deal – I’d just stop by the dollar store on the way home and I’d be set. We’d have a few more pens and pads of paper than usual, but it’d be OK.

Imagine the look on my face when I opened the door to find that the only wrapping paper left was covered with Justin Bieber. (I didn’t need paper, but it was still traumatizing.) I moved on to the candy. It was appalling – I could only get chocolate-flavored or chocolatey. There was no actual chocolate! Luckily I did have a back-up plan for that – I had bought some of the family’s favorites at work because I knew I would never find it in the dollar store.

I went to toiletries. No nail clippers. No floss. Icky toothbrushes. No body wash for men. No make-up. Large bottles of lotion from some company I’d never heard of, in a scent I didn’t know. This was totally unacceptable. What was I supposed to do?

I went to office supplies. Very few pens. A few memo pads. I tried to think of where else I might go as I wandered the aisles. I finally found some snacks – trail mix, peanuts, etc. Stain remover pens. Socks (not even from China). Packaged, non-Christmas candy. At the counter I found some lip balm.

When I filled the stockings, all was well (although there was LOTS of candy). I’m already planning to stake out the dollars stores next fall to find the best place to go.

In the meantime, I’m going to size up the fruit.

3

I Don’t Have Time for This

|

I will admit up front that I am a Christmas procrastinator. However, I do have a couple of not-bad excuses for it. (Of course I have time to make up excuses – I’m not doing much of anything else.)

I have always preferred to do my wrapping all at once. I’m one of those people who has twenty-five different rolls of paper because I love to have all the different colors under the tree. I probably got the idea from TV in the days before I realized those people don’t actually wrap their own stuff. I should look into getting “people” to do it for me. I make a huge mess. Besides, I have to make sure all my daughter’s presents aren’t wrapped in the same paper, don’t I?

I’m also one of those people who likes to see lots of presents under the tree. So I have been known to wrap a stack of books in several different packages. And I like ribbons and bows. And ribbons really do look better if you get the skinny kind and make some of your bows by hand. But that’s a lot of work, so I can’t do it at the same time as I wrap because I would be too tired to care what things look like at the end and get crabby. And my husband says I get crabby enough as it is.

At one point, I was organized enough to get my shopping done by the end of November. Then I got married, got a real job, had kids, and got medicine for being bipolar. (I spend a lot less money, but around the holidays really miss those days when I could get twice as many things done at once.) All of that took up a lot of time. But the final straw came when Rascal moved in.

Rascal was a sweet, lovable cat with one really annoying habit. She never met a ribbon or bow she didn’t want to eat. She also liked opening presents. For years, every bow we had came with teeth marks. Not only that, cats don’t digest ribbon well. So we’d spend a fair amount of time cleaning up cat vomit.

This house has a sun room we can use to store presents. But the first one was really small. It was either wait to wrap the presents or continually repair things with tape. Eventually nothing could be opened without a knife on Christmas morning. Luckily I come from one of those families where the men don’t feel fully dressed unless they have a pocket knife.

I also like to power-bake over a couple of days. Once again, I make a huge mess and would like to limit the clean-up to one major sand-blasting each year. Besides, we want fresh cookies, right? My mother used to make a lot of pressed cookies (the ones that come out of the thing that looks like a lube/grout gun) and Mexican Wedding/Russian Tea Cake cookies. Those cookies start out so dry, no one can tell how old they are (at least hers did). Mine tend more to the chocolate chip/peanut butter variety which don’t hold up so well.

Bottom line? This was my week-end to prepare for Christmas. On Friday, we had a lot of boxes to unload at work. No big deal; I have a brace to wear at night and can barely tell by the next morning. I’d been having a little trouble with my shoulder, but that wasn’t interfering with anything, so I didn’t even consider that. My plan: I’d get up Saturday morning, get to work, and be ready for Christmas Sunday night.

Wrong. Apparently whatever I strained in my shoulder is connected to whatever I hurt in my hand. (Guess the song’s right about the shoulder bone being connected to the elbow, etc.) By 1a Saturday morning, I couldn’t sleep because of the pain. I finally got up about 7a. I could barely move my hand. I wasn’t sure which was worse, the pain or the constant feeling that my arm was ‘waking up’. I tried all those pain relievers (not all at once) that are supposed to allow you ‘to get on with your life’.  I had always made the assumption that they meant with minimal pain. I guess it just means they won’t kill you.

My husband told me I should go to the doctor. It was probably good advice, but unless the doctor was going to do the baking I didn’t really see it as a short-term solution. So I did the logical thing – took a couple of muscle relaxers (from the last time I hurt my shoulder) and slept most of the day. I didn’t get anything done, but I didn’t care.

So, now it is Sunday morning. My arm feels a lot better, but I have a hang-over from the muscle relaxers. I wonder how the family would feel about having all the presents in a giant box. They could guess which present was meant for which person.

3

What Would Grandma Say?

|

[Welcome to my new look. I was getting a little tired of the old one. Besides, I couldn’t resist something called “Choco” – it sounds very close to my favorite food.]

My mom’s mother lived in a retirement community that had a potluck once a month for quite a while. While Grandma really enjoyed the potlucks, she had two complaints. The first was people who brought only enough of their dish for three or four people. On the one hand, she had a valid point; unless you rushed to the table, there were certain dishes you never had a opportunity to try. On the other hand, our family gatherings always had enough food to feed Oliver Twist’s orphanage.

The other complaint was that people brought store-bought food and said they made it. Grandma didn’t have a problem with someone picking up a frozen pie and heating it up or using a cake mix, but she did not consider that home-made. She said that it wasn’t home-made unless you made it from scratch. She baked until she was in her mid-eighties, so she was entitled to her opinion.

As often happens through the generations, my mother used many more convenience foods than her mother, and then the pendulum swung back with me. I am a cooking snob. You cannot tell me that taking frozen hash browns and melting cheese on them makes it a home-made dish. Similarly, cutting up cooking dough from a tube and heating it is not baking home-made cookies. Some of my attitude comes from Grandma, some comes from all the preservatives and additives in prepared foods, and some comes from the cost of ready-made dishes. My attitudes have changed over time; when we were first married, I was a much bigger fan of frozen stuff.

The holidays always highlight the various ways we can decrease our time in the kitchen. A woman caught me off-guard the other day. She asked me where she could find the Rice Krispie treats that were formed into a flat sheet and could be cut out into shapes. I love Rice Krispie treats. They’re so sweet, I can’t resist. I even like the pre-made ones you can take in your lunch.

But I could not imagine buying a sheet of it and using cookie cutters to make shapes. What do you do with the scraps between the shapes? They must be your reward for working so hard. How many sheets would you need to make enough cookies to put on a plate? Sometimes it hard to tell what shape a sugar cookie is (who designs some of those reindeer cutters?). I would imagine that a Rice Krispie star would look an awful lot like a Rice Krispie Christmas tree.

These questions must have even occurred to the Rice Krispie people; the product is no longer available. The woman truly looked crest-fallen. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that she could make her own treats in any thickness she liked and cut them out. I knew that she would tell me that mixing the cereal and the marshmallows together was too messy and too much work.

There are several Christmas displays right across the aisle from where I work. One of them has gingerbread house kits. I can appreciate the idea behind these. I tried to make one from scratch once and discovered that I am not coordinated enough to hold the sides together while they set. Or detail-oriented enough to get all the pieces the same size to actually fit together. I never would have been able to lure Hansel and Gretel. But it did taste good.

A year or two later, I was still fascinated by the idea so I bought a kit. Like most pre-made food, it was considered edible for six months after its holiday. I still had trouble getting it to stay together. Obviously, I am not the one who fixes things around the house. Finally, I got frustrated and walked away. I decided to eat one of the candy decorations. Apparently the emphasis should be on decoration. I almost broke a tooth. I tried the gingerbread; it tasted awful. Not only would I have trouble luring Hansel and Gretel, they probably would have poisoned themselves on the house. And who wants to eat poisoned children?

I noticed that one of this year’s models was larger than the previous ones. It appeared to have a yard as well as the house. It also came with LED lights so you could back-light your house. I was impressed. The company has accepted that the product is inedible and is now trying to sell it based on your being able to have the only gingerbread house in the neighborhood with Christmas lights. Looking into the future, I can see tiny inflatable snowmen and reindeer on the roof. Scout troops can start having competitions as a fund-raiser.

Another lady came up to me and said that she couldn’t find the gingerbread cookies in a tube. I helped her find them. She told me they were so good that she always stocked up at Christmas and stored them in her freezer. That way should could have them year-round. I refrained from telling her that hoarders like her were the reason other people had to do without gingerbread cookies at Christmas.

I think those cookie rolls used to only come in one size. (Even my mother drew the line at cookies in a plastic tube.) It seems like the diameter was somewhere in the 1″-1 1/2″ range. Now you can get that size, but there is also a tube that appears to be about twice that size. I wonder if tubed cookies work the same way as the ones I make. It doesn’t matter what size I make, people generally take two or three.

There are also lots of flavors: chocolate chip, sugar, gingerbread, peppermint, cut-outs in the middle of the round. I’m guessing some are more popular than others. The other morning I came in and was checking my aisle for miscellany left during the night. I found an open tube of cooking dough with a bite out of it. Apparently the person tried it and didn’t like it. I suppose there was no reason to steal it if they weren’t going to enjoy it.

It’s true that my stuff doesn’t look as symmetric as what comes out of a tube. But I can buy the ingredients any time of year. So I don’t have to fill my freezer with tubes of cookie dough that have the potential to fall out, breaking one of my toes.

3

You Got Me That? Why?

|

Now that you’ve finished shopping and wrapping, the tree is up, the cards are out, and the baking is under control, there’s one more topic we need to discuss. Why I would never be friends with someone so perfect. Just kidding. I’ve never met anyone who is at that point two weeks before Christmas, so you may be a wonderful human being. Or an alien. Or manic. (I’m bipolar. The one year I got everything done this early was before I started getting proper treatment.)

No, I’m talking about gift etiquette. Kids are not the only ones who open gifts and suffer from “You obviously spent a lot of money. Why on earth would you spend it on this?”

One year when I was in college, my boyfriend got me a large mirror. It was a cat amidst a bunch of houseplants with the title “In the jungle darkness lurks the tiger.” It was really cute, and definitely fit my personality. I had no place whatsoever to put it, but thought it was a great gift. My mother took one look at it and said, “Why did he get you THAT?” Can you tell she didn’t like him?

Of course, she is the one who got a pair of faux Louis XIV lamps from her mother-in-law to go with her Danish modern furniture. And a purple negligee from the same woman (she is neither the purple type nor the negligee type). They didn’t get along. I think she may have been living vicariously through me. She spent years bashing the gifts I got from various boyfriends. Fortunately she got more tactful by the time my husband started giving me gifts (or she liked him better).

While I would never advise my mother’s route of putting hideous lamps in your living room for ten years to show appreciation for the thought, I don’t recommend opening something and telling the giver “but this isn’t the one I wanted!” either. (Another relic of my pre-medicated days. My family is really, really grateful I found a decent doctor.)

I think it’s important to understand the giver. Obviously, anything you get from your child should be accepted with the same heart-felt joy they had in buying it/making it. No matter what it is, they genuinely thought you would like it and have spent a lot of time on it. Needless to say, this advice needs to go by the wayside somewhere over the age of ten.

While some teenagers still care about the recipient, I think some are more casual about the whole thing. “Oh, that’s right, you belong to the NRA. Sorry about the vegan food club membership.” Or, “I ran out of money after I bought gifts for [significant other]. But I’m sure you’ll like this soap from the dollar store. You always told me it’s the thought that counts.” A large percentage won’t care (or notice) if you return it.

Not so much with parents. Assuming they still like you and your spouse, they have put some thought into your gift(s). And they would like to think they know you well enough to know what you would like to have. So, if you receive another gift for your office (zen garden, aquarium, scorpion paperweight), be enthusiastic. They will never know that you returned it for the office basketball hoop with automatic return you really wanted.

It’s a little trickier with a spouse. He will probably notice if you return the sexy negligee for a flannel gown. By the time you are married, it is too late to tell him that it makes you feel like a slut (unless it’s a combination wedding/Christmas gift). We all know the gift is really for him, but there is usually something of a compliment in it. He won’t buy it unless he wants to see you in it. You can wear it one time for him. On the way from the bathroom to the bed. If you look as bad as you think you do, he won’t ask again. If you look as good as he thinks you do, you’ve got a new outfit.

Conversely, she’ll probably know if the boxers with “Gift from Santa” on the front disappear. (If you’re married to the girl above, you’re probably already happy with the gifts and don’t need my advice.) However, in your case, you need to find out whether it’s a joke or her idea of sexy. If they are accompanied by another pair covered in cartoon reindeer, it is probably a joke. If there’s a how-to manual for something you’ve never heard of, there are things you may not know about your wife.

Writing this has reminded me that the only thing that is done around here is the tree. And that is handled by my husband and daughter. You’re on your own with your bosses, friends and neighbors. Keep in mind: the tactfulness should increase based on the amount of damage they can do to your life/career.

2

Meet My Most Obnoxious Ex – Mr. Technology

|

At one point, we were very close. I even considered changing my life for him. I had begun my career as an employee benefits analyst/consultant. Then I met him on a new project. We were going to create a benefits administration system.  Before I knew it, I could write business requirements and do data diagrams. I designed phone trees. We became serious when I joined a software company as a business analyst.

Then something happened. We seemed to plateau, and we both knew we weren’t meant for each other. So we went our separate ways. I still run into Mr. Technology, but he has developed some very irritating habits.

My doctor works out of a clinic with one general phone number. When I call to schedule an appointment, the nice voice on the phone tree tells me to listen carefully to the menu because the options have changed. I’m not sure when they changed; they’ve been the same for the past year I’ve been calling. I press the number to make an appointment. Another nice voice tells me that I am caller fifteen with an expected wait time of twenty minutes. My call is important to them and they appreciate my patience. While I wait, I listen to on ongoing advertisement for the affiliated hospital and medical centers. The nice voice deserts me.

I ordered Christmas presents on-line last year; there were two things from one vendor. I got a very nice message back thanking me for my order and giving me an expected delivery date. Sure enough, my order was delivered on time. Unfortunately one thing was not what I ordered. Instead of cute flannel lounge pants for my daughter (size small), I got an XXL fishing t-shirt. I emailed the company, and they gave me directions for returning the item in exchange for what I wanted. They asked if I was sure I didn’t want the shirt.

A week later, I called to follow-up. A pleasant young man answered. They couldn’t send the pants until they received the shirt, but the pants were definitely coming. Another week passed. I called back and spoke with another pleasant young man. They had received the shirt, but it hadn’t been entered into the system yet. He would try to expedite it.

Five days before Christmas, I called to ask (less pleasantly) where the pants were. The less pleasant young man told me that they were sold out and I would have to wait for a refund to process through the system. I bought a new present locally; I got my refund mid-January. I did not receive a pleasant apology. They did not receive an order this year.

I utilized several job-hunting sites intermittently over the years before I found my true calling in cheese. Many of them have their own rules for what can be entered as a user name and password. The sites and I worked closely together for awhile, then I would get bored and move on to something else. Reality would set back in and I’d return to the site.

But the site always pretended it didn’t remember me. I’d type in what I thought was the correct identification and get “wrong user name/password” in red letters. So I’d try something else. (Whose bright idea is it that you’re supposed to have a different password for everything you use and not write them down anywhere? Life is much easier now that I use my Social Security Number for all of them.)

Finally I’d break down and admit to the system that I couldn’t remember my password. So it would ask for my user name. And tell me that it didn’t recognize my user name. So I would tell it I couldn’t remember my user name. It would ask for my email address. And tell me it didn’t recognize my email address. I asked for the security questions. And it would tell me there weren’t any security questions for me. Of course there weren’t, you stupid computer. Why did you ask if I wanted to answer security questions when you didn’t know who I am.

After much frustration, I would decide to re-enter my information into the site. When they asked for email address, I would type in the one I use for employment follow-up. It would then tell me that I already had a record on file. I would ask them to send me the password via email. It would tell me once again it couldn’t find my record. I contacted the help desk and received a pleasant response that they had received my inquiry. It was number a62785zb892, and someone would respond shortly. Please use that number for any inquiries.

A few days later, I would receive another pleasant email apologizing for my inconvenience and telling me that everything was fixed. I would go back to the site with much anticipation. Enter my user ID and password. And get “wrong user name/password” in red letters.

My husband told me Mr. Technology is bad for my stress level. I am forced to admit that we are irreconcilable. I hope he’s happy with the choices he’s made.

2

Bring Me a Figgy Pudding

|

Pudding – [UK] a sweet and usually hot dish made with pastry, flour, bread,or rice, and often fruit: a stick toffee/treacle pudding  › [US] a sweet, soft food made from milk, sugar, eggs and flavouring, eaten cold: chocolate/vanilla/butterscotch pudding (Cambridge Dictionaries Online)

When I was little, I heard about plum pudding at Christmas. It sounded like a strange flavor, but grown-ups eat strange things sometimes. Imagine my surprise, while watching A Christmas Carol with my dad, to find Mrs. Cratchitt using a towel not to burn herself while serving the plum pudding. It looked like a brown lump of bread with raisins in it. I was close.

I found a recipe for it. The ingredients include whole wheat flour, fresh bread crumbs, shredded suet, eggs, carrot, apple, dark brown sugar, blanched almonds, preserved stem ginger in syrup, ground almonds, walnuts, candied cherries, raisins, dried currants, golden raisins, candied mixed fruit peel, plums, lemon, mixed spice, baking powder, and ale. Wow! This sounded a lot like my mother’s fruit cake recipe with suet added! Yum! Not only that, you have to steam them for 5 to 10 hours to set them, baste them in brandy or rum regularly, and steam them for 2-3 hours to reheat them.

I don’t care how much rum or brandy to add to it, that pudding is not coming to my table much less to my recipe collection. I wondered how the people who created the language had attached such an attractive name to such an, um, interesting set of ingredients. Of course, my mother’s family (from Cornwall) made tons of fruitcake every year. They liked to brag that they only used enough batter to hold the fruit together. I’m not sure it should be allowed to be called fruit once they petrify it like that.

With this background, I dreaded the thought of what figgy pudding might be. As near as they can tell, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” originated in England sometime in the sixteenth century. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that figgy pudding really does sound like a dessert. It’s a kind of souffle made with figs and walnuts. They say it tastes a little like spice cake. You will have to either take their word for it or try it yourself. Sticky brown lumps do not made a tasty base for any food as far as I’m concerned. However the serving suggestions include topping it with whipped cream or ice cream, which speaks well for it.

Thinking I was on a roll, I decided that I would look into one more “English dessert”, mincemeat pie. Silly me. I was thinking pumpkin pie when I should have been thinking meat pie. My grandparents from Scotland loved meat pies. Based on smell, I had never asked what was actually in the pie. Since all the jars of mincemeat I have seen in markets here have no meat, I figured it was some sort of substitute for people who couldn’t afford real meat. At least I think that’s the idea.

The Victorian recipe I looked at has the following ingredients: lemons, tart apples, raisins, dried currants, citron, candied orange peel, beef kidney suet, nutmeg, mace, ginger, salt, brandy, beef (optional). You mix it all together and let it set a couple of days for the flavors to mingle. More time with no beef. I am not a huge fan of beef, but in this case I think it would be a positive addition. My first image when I read the recipe was fruitcake mixed with suet (kidney suet at that). I now understand why the American supermarket version emphasizes that it is made with raisins and walnuts. I think the brandy manufacturers had a role in developing these recipes; I’m sure the more brandy you use, the better they taste.

For as long as I can remember, our desserts on Christmas have been hot-fudge sundaes and home-made cookies. A couple of times, I got really motivated and made a buche de noel. I was pondering the idea of making a more traditional dessert to go with the roast and Yorkshire pudding (yikes – I never made the name connection). Upon further thought, those molasses cookies are sounding pretty good.

2

Silent Night, Where are You?

|

Or silent day? Or anytime, for that matter. Tis the season of Christmas at the store. I am grateful that we are not quite at 24/7 Christmas music. (We also heard Green Day, The Mamas and the Papas, and Bruno Mars once today.) However, we are close enough to bring out my inner Grinch.

I did not always dislike Christmas music. In fact, as a regular church-goer, I still love the Christmas carols we sing there (very traditional). I watched all the cartoons when I was little and still know the words to “Holly Jolly Christmas” and “Island of Unwanted Toys.” I love listening to carolers and choirs singing live.

But store music is to carols as Velveeta is to fine Cheddar from Somerset – a reminder that as things become more popular, the more likely they are to move toward the lowest common denominator (for the non-math people, this is not a good thing outside of math). Not to say that all was perfect in the past. My brother needed to listen to music when he was little to get to sleep. My parents had a record of Fred Waring’s orchestra playing Christmas songs. Eartha Kitt did a version of “Jingle Bells” that still makes me feel creepy. But nothing really gets under my skin that I only have to hear a few times each year.

However…

I no longer care that Michael Jackson saw his mommy kissing Santa Claus. Or that his brothers don’t believe him. Or that he’s going to tell his daddy. If he’d stayed in bed where he’d belonged, I wouldn’t have to listen to it three or four times each eight-hour shift. I don’t even want to think about the John Mellencamp version. The man had to be close to forty when he recorded it. That is just disturbing.

Then there’s the song that starts, “Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. The very next day, you gave it away.” I don’t know what it’s called or who sings it. (There are both male and female versions.) Why did he give her his heart? It sounds like one of those Mayan  religious rituals or that lady on “Once Upon a Time” who has an unfortunate tendency to reach into people’s chests and grab the heart. Who would she give it to? No one is going to want a heart that she apparently abused. Why is he still talking to her a year later?

Brenda Lee did a fine version of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” and after all these years, her version is still popular and recognizable. Why would anyone cover that song in the same version? (Not sure, but that might be Miley Cyrus.) Whoever it is, sounds enough like Brenda to remind me of the original but then misses a few of the later notes. Note to singers: If you’re going to cover a standard, make it your own.

If Grandma was drunk enough to get run over by a reindeer, why didn’t someone walk her home? For that matter, what’s wrong with her son walking her home anyway? It’s dark. It’s a holiday. It seems like the least he could do.

I think the kid who wants her two front teeth for Christmas needs them because someone knocked her over running away from her horrible singing. I have only heard the song once in recent memory, but it continues to set my teeth on edge when I think about it. Don’t think about it, you say? Easier said than done when you listen to robo-music all day.

Finally, will someone please destroy all the copies of “Santa Baby” in existence? (Maybe I just don’t like Eartha Kitt Christmas music.) Yes, I know it was written by a woman (one of the few successful Christmas songs by a woman). And I know it’s supposed to be a joke. But the idea of seeing Santa in any sort of sexual role just gives the kid in me nightmares. And it should also come as no surprise that the Material Girl also had a hit with it.

I had a CD with baroque harpsichord Christmas music. I still think my family destroyed it. But if I can find it, I’m going to put it on the sound system and get my revenge.

2

Dear Santa, I’ve Been Really Good This Year (Mostly)

|

Dear Santa Claus,

I know that Thanksgiving is in three days, and you will start getting inundated with requests from small children about what they want for Christmas. I thought that I should remind you how good I have been this year, so you will be ready when I send my list. From what I remember about Christmas when I was little, the whole “naughty and nice” thing was pretty much a gimmick to get kids to behave. However, based on some of my recent gifts, I think there may actually be some sort of behavior standards for adults.

I remember from Sunday School that Jesus said something about how thinking about committing a sin is as bad as doing it. But I also remember them telling us that Jesus isn’t Santa Claus, so we couldn’t just keep asking Him to do stuff for us. That means I don’t have to be as good for you, right? I mean none of us are perfect (except that woman at work who keeps telling everyone else how to do their job because she knows how to do everything better than the rest of us). 

In case you or one of your spies elves have been too busy to notice, I have summarized the year.

I have been taking better care of myself physically. I finally got that annual exam I’ve been meaning to get around to for the past however many years. Just for the record, I am completely healthy. (probably should cut back on my two favorite foods though – chocolate and anything with sugar – and go to the dentist – and get some real glasses – doctor says I should exercise more even though I have an active job – I bet she doesn’t stop by the gym after work)

I’ve been trying hard to follow the rules at work (except the stupid ones – how am I supposed to straighten stuff on the top hooks without kneeling on the ledge at the bottom of the display? what about getting the stuff at the back of the pallet without stepping on it? climbing on the carts in the cooler to get to the stuff at the back? It’s not like I walk around with my box-cutter open – although it is non-regulation)

I try to be kind to everyone (except the ones I kinda throw under the bus once in awhile on this blog – but no one knows who they are anyway, so I don’t think they count; maybe I talked about a couple of people at work, but nothing everyone else wasn’t already saying)

I have been trying to read the posts of everyone I follow and liking what they write as much as possible (except the couple I had to drop because they were just too healthy and made me feel guilty – and that guy who was so conservative I wanted to smack him every time I read a post)

I have been doing my best to comment graciously on other people’s blogs (except those two people who got offended by what I wrote – it’s not my fault they didn’t get my humor, right?)

I have been taking care of my mother’s finances (except those couple of times I forgot to send checks to my brother when she asked – I probably should have done it right away or in the next day or so)

I am a courteous driver (I only remember pulling out directly in front of someone from my driveway one time this year and I really thought I had looked first – I only speed when I’m really late for work or church and there really aren’t that many people on the road that time of day anyway)

I am always helpful to the customers at work (except when I go to the break room/exit through receiving to avoid everyone, but sometimes people are so annoying and avoiding them is better than ignoring them, right?)

One final thing, Santa. You do grade on a curve, right?

0

Give the Gift of Love…Give Bacon

|

I love looking at catalogs, particularly the ones that come at Christmas. Some of them are beautiful, like the ones that come from art museums. But those ones aren’t any fun; I might actually buy that stuff for someone. The better ones are the catalogs with items whose recipients I can only imagine. What’s a little scary is that several of those catalogs have the same items. Are there really that many people out there who want Poop Soap? (rhetorical question, I don’t want to know.)

Every year, there are a couple of trends in these catalogs. Squirrels, cows, and rabbits have each had their time. But if you want to give a cutting edge gift this year, it seems you will have to go to the pig. The deceased, cut-up, and smoked pig. Everywhere I looked, there was bacon. Not the low-fat, low-salt semi-healthy type. We are celebrating the artery-clogging, fat-laden real thing you may remember from years past.

We can start with Bacon Strips Adhesive Bandages. They are advertised, “These bandages look like real bacon strips.” It comes with 15 bandages and “a prize to help take your mind off your boo-boo.” Nothing screams sterility and healing like bacon fat on your finger.

If your loved one is a fashion follower, he’s sure to want a bacon Sticky Tie. “Peel, stick, wear and re-wear these outrageous sticky ties.” They are promised not to tear, being fabric rather than paper. Just the thing for the next big presentation. You can also get ties that look like duct tape and beer. (No price break for a set.)

Tie not a bold enough statement? Get your loved one a bacon t-shirt. “Printed using a sublimated (?) ink process, resulting in crisp detail and vivid colors that look good enough to eat.” Actually, it is pretty realistic. There seems to be an emphasis on the fat in a slice of bacon and the grease will remind you of why it is healthier to put the bacon on the outside of your body.

Still looking? How about a bacon scarf? “A delish fashion accent for guys or gals, with everyone’s favorite rich marbled pork product knit in soft 100% acrylic.” Guess Spam isn’t considered marbled pork. Living in Michigan, I know it’s not going to be of any use in the cold weather coming up. I’d recommend it for someone who want’s to dress down that overly formal outfit they plan to wear on New Year’s Eve.

Even less formal? An “I’d Wrap that in Bacon” t-shirt. The write-up pretty much says it all: “You could fry it in butter. or smother it with gravy. But if you really want to go all nine yards, there’s only one thing for it. Bacon.” In other words, we know it’s unhealthy. We know it could kill you. But let’s celebrate it because we really, really like it. (Note to catalog editor: the phrase is ‘the whole nine yards.”. An early sign of too much bacon fat in the brain?)

Loved one more of the artsy type than fashionista? How about a couple of bacon ornaments for the tree? They are made of hand-blown glass, so don’t hold them after indulging in your favorite snack. The catalog says that it “makes a great gift for fellow members of the “Brotherhood of the Bacon”. There’s a great “fat” joke in there, but I can’t find it; insert your own.

This next gift could be used as a sign that you want to take your relationship to the next level. Nothing says I want to be close to you more than a matching bacon throw and pillow. “There’s nothing a little salt-cured pork can’t cure. And that includes the trauma of having a dull, drab, un-bacon-ified living space.” How the recipient responds will give you a good indicator whether you want to be on any level with this person.

Finally, for the purists among you, there is hand-dipped Marini’s Chocolate Bacon. “Premium thick-cut bacon is oven-baked until golden and crispy, then expertly hand dipped in Marini’s 34% cocoa Dutch milk chocolate or 54% French vanilla semisweet dark chocolate, creating a sweet, savory taste sensation unlike any other.” They say dark chocolate is good for you, so you can brag about the healthy gift you gave if you go with the French vanilla semisweet dark chocolate. (I wonder if being semisweet takes away the healthy. Maybe you should skip the healthy and go with the extravagance of the gift.)

I know you want to get on with your shopping. So, to do comparison shopping, you can find these items in the catalogs from Spilsbury, The Lighter Side, Wireless, and Hammacher Schlemmer (guess which one came from there?) There is also a huge selection on Amazon (you can even get a set of bacon and eggs for you and your bed-mate).

And if you find yourself on Christmas Eve with no present, just go down to the corner market and get a pound of bacon. If you really love them, get hickory smoked.

0

Elves to Strike for Living Wage?

|

As Monty Python used to say, “And now for something completely different.”

Grimm Report's avatarThe Grimm Report

A Special Report By Grimm Report Chief Polar Affairs Correspondent, Cathy Behnke
https://cat9984.wordpress.com

This morning there was a brief item in the North Pole Register (NPR) saying that Santa’s Elves are considering going on strike this month to force Christmastime Enterprises (CE) into paying them enough to support their families. More details would be provided as they became available.

Having lived up here for awhile, I decided to see if I could get my Elf sources to give me some more information. First I tried my closest friend, Herbie. But since he had been out of the toy-making guild for awhile, he referred me to a reliable source. This source refused to speak on the record. He insisted we speak Elvish for security reasons, so I hope I got everything straight.

View original post 351 more words