Journal Entry December 25th 2000
(note: Cuss Cards are usually expired bus passes or library cards my lovely mother has bestowed upon my children since they learned talk. In posession of the card, they are awarded five solid minutes of "cursing" at their discretion, usually during a holiday family gathering or other special occasions where my mom has a camera and wants to mortify me).
(note: Ruthie and Walter are family friends of my grandmothers. They are not married to each other and as it was described to me, had a purely physical attraction. They are in their 70's and 80's respectively).
(note: Sometimes my mother is mean spirited and hateful).
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Well...another Christmas has come and gone and another to go down in the diary.
We woke up early at 7am (thanks to Andrew) and stumbled upstairs to open presents and eat breakfast. We hung out watching movies until about noon and then our adventure began.
We headed over to great grandma's where Ruthie and Walter were already waiting.
Ruthie (fashionable as she is at 83 years old) looked very festive in her thigh high mini-skirt and platinum blond Marilyn Monroe wig. I was quite impressed that her make up made it on to BOTH sides of her face this Christmas.
Walter seemed like an awfully nice older gentleman. Silver hair, Gene Autry polyester pants and the obligatory tweed jacket with the leather elbow patches and the cowboy shitkickers (he would need them later).
Great Grandma was her usual mix of pissiness and holiday twitter. We installed her computer programs, hooked up her printer, loaded up the car and were on our way to Aunt Annie's for some "fine eatin".
When we arrived, Anne was busy cooking in the kitchen. I helped her bring everything to the table but let her have the satisfaction of putting the traditional "dallop of butter" on everything in sight.
Dinner was lovely and my kids didn't say one bad word (even though Santa had left "cuss cards" in their stockings).
After dinner it was time to unwrap more presents...always a treat when Ruthie is around. Two years ago Andrew and Kat got turkey basters..what every seven year old kid dreams for.
As we dug into our presents, it looked like it would be the usual fare; chocolates, nuts and petrified candies.
Not so this year...
Great Grandma tore into her bag with gusto. She pulled out a handsomely decorated antique clown then let out a shriek. Mom leaned over to see what all of the commotion was about and started laughing so hard she fell literally out of her chair.
Unable to talk she handed me the doll.
At first I didn't see it and then there it was...glistening like a mongoose turd in a shit storm.
The entire right side of the doll was covered in a generous coating of cat poop. Judging from the doll, a ver SICK cat.
My mom and I laughed so hard and so long that we didn't even notice my grandma and Ruthie near tears, bless their cotton socks.
I had just barely regained normal breathing when my mother held up her presents; a can of sardines and some SPAM.
I was the lucky one tonight, boy. The sweater I received only SMELLED like cat shit.
My mom hushed my grandma and assured her that she would have little trouble just "flicking that shit right off the clown."
But grandma looked unconvinced.
On top of everything else, Anne was dogsitting for Christmas and for four fucking hours those dogs stopped barking only long enough to breathe and to take turns sniffing the clown.
Although we had no Chinese waiters singing "FaRaRaRaRa" like in a Christmas Story, this sure felt a lot like the Bumpass Dogs. Install some sardines and cat shit and we could shoot an eye out.
Ah...Dear Diary.
How will I EVER bring the man of my dreams (if I ever meet him) over for a fun family Christmas?? He'd last about five minutes in amongst the howling dogs, shitty dolls, sardines and SPAM.
I swear I need to write a book about my family and their misadventures..no one would believe me though..and of COURSE the video camera broke!
This morning Andrew was completely distraught because he couldn't find his "cuss card".
Kat pulled hers out from her stocking and teased him with it, a devilish little grin spreading across her face.
After a few seconds Andrew looks around, spots the card under his foot, yanks it out, holds it up in victory and yells
"FUCK YOU KAT!"
Ah.
Merry Christmas.
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2 comments:
CK -- I can't think of a better time at Christmas than the one you described in your journal. Perhaps it's the writer in me, but I see all of this compassion in between the "surprise" moments. Also, I love the idea of cuss cards. Some people might look at a Christmas like this as a minor disaster, but I DO see it as fun.
And hey -- it's part of your journal, which means you have it for your memoirs, too.
I wouldn't wish this for every Christmas, of course -- you need the opposite extreme too -- the Tiny Tim family Christmas, but your family was together, no matter what else happened.
And that is a very good thing.
Do you still have the sweater?
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