I finally read this Michael. Having a daughter about the same age, my
Shaine (beautiful in Yiddish) is 8, she is our only girl with 2 older
brothers, your stories always touch a special place in the heart as
there is nothing like receiving the love of a daughter for her daddy.

 

Hope you all had a great Christmas.

 





Eric Hammarberg 
Vice President 
Thornton Tomasetti 
51 Madison Avenue 
New York, NY  10010 
T 917.661.7800  F 917.661.7801   
D 917.661.8160   
[log in to unmask] 
www.ThorntonTomasetti.com 

From: The listserv where the buildings do the talking
[mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of
[log in to unmask]
Sent: Saturday, December 25, 2010 12:59 AM
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: [BP] secret santa

 

Secret Santa 

 

 

Does this happen at your house ? 

ok it is the night before....... the night before Christmas 

My heat has gone out ; I have in ground thermal ; and the bloody heat
pump goes off 

Grrrrrrr  so Im chopping wood and calling in favors 

Hey Mutt  remember that electrical contract I got for you and Jeff  this
year ?

 yeah the one you made $25k from 

well my heat pump went  down and can you come over for a look see ?

so I m chopping wood until he gets here 

 

Now to make matters worse I went to hide  Santa Claus presents in one
closet and had to be turned away to find another closet as some relative
already had their Santa stash in there 

.Then when I got to the next  closet  

iI also had been commandeered with  santa gifts brought over by my
brother in law  . 

 GRRRR

whats going on here....What am I ? chopped liver ? Do I live here or
what? 

  Seems our house has become the secret  drop  off box  for my in-laws
to hide their secret Santa gifts from the prying eyes of  little
fingers  

But that's no excuse ; with closet space now at a premium ;

pray tell where is my hiding spot for Santa  ?

 

ok .That leaves the  upstairs 

..Now upstairs is the sacred domain le Peanut   

and  to think there is not one sq inch up there that  is unknown  to her
is quite ridiculous  

Like a minefield  she has every inch of that magic kingdom covered .

So its nuts  a to even  try to hide anything up there from her  .

 

Ok ; now im upset .....That leaves  the great outdoors or around  the
house ;

; Out there  I  have two likely places  ; 

One is the  John Deere tractor 

and the other a low rider 92 industrial silver Buick Road Master
station Wagon ; 

. 

The tractor much to my surprise is harboring  a family of Christmas mice
under its seat 

; and so to kick them out  now so close to Christmas  would not be in
keeping with the message of Christmas ;

That  leaves the  BUICK  ;;or the Silver sled as peanut calls it, 

 a low rider custom  cruiser if there ever was one ;

The Buick is stripped of its faux wood paneling  and tricked out  with a
boom box that razzes in vibration  with  the sound of the  base 

accompanying  this sound is a deep throated  Hollywood muffler dual
exhaust system 

 that turns heads when moving off the line of a red light .

The "Silver sled " is by apperance a silver coated armor plated bad boy


that looks more at home in the Hood of  Dee -troit 

than in the bucolic country side we live in  

 

In honest I  use it mostly in  the summer and the fall months  

when I take kids fishing or swimming ; or to the nighttime football  or
baseball games. ;

 so we  can drive through  the outdoor  drive through's  cruising  for
burgers   so the girls can scream "yuk at boys of the same age  .

The silver sled  is the largest station wagon ever made ; and can handle
the traffic 

 It has a 350 engine and is all electric power ;and came from the same
era as  ENRON  and the rise of the tech market ;when big was better and
Greed was legal  and hopefully  we will never see  the  likes of  those
days again 

 

We covet it as a summer car  because we can  get  up to  7 or eight kids
in it and go on road trips  to swimming holes;.and still have room for
the take home groceries .

That's right ; here in the summer when its hot ; its nothing to pile in
a half dozen   bouncing  and  wiggling  tween girls 

doing barefoot handstands singing Karioke wearing silly bands and hand
me down  bleached out and tattered two pieces sporting   tye dye tank
tops  all waving their arms and  doing   free style  rap  while  passing
cars gape in wonder and astonishment 

 

Me ? 

Im the Dad ; I like the windows rolled down and no air ; just like the
old days ; and the way it used to be 

I park a black Maduro stub (unlit ) in the corner of my puss 

;and pull down my  pool shooters straw  just  above the  eye brows  

 then  cruise  the old  back roads monitoring the rearview mirror as the
kids sing and sway  for position    and attention texting girl friends
or moms or just letting  the wind blow their hair blow in the summer
breeze.

 while I mouth to them  into the rearview mirror    

"Hey!!! put your seat belts  back on  NOW ..... "and " "don't make me
stop ; 

"believe me YOU DO NOT WANT TO MAKE ME STOP "   this car ; 

 .

We make for the  vine shrouded swimming holes ; cool deep pools in fresh
water streams that bring out the indain in them ;Here  they can run
barefoot  and  swing out over  the cool  water before dropping  off into
that wonderful abyss and splash  to  shrieks of joy      .

 They  play pirate girl and lord of the flies ;walking the plank and
;climbing  ancient rooted paths made of  smooth mud then go off  dashing
wildly  through forested  cane breaks  that weave in and out of  giant
semi tropical  elephant ear plants ;whose storied  big  leafs  dwarfs
them in size  

They serve their brought lunch  in rough shod  lean twos made from
scavenged  bamboo ;and  doll out

 little containers of  Sunny D's  and Hawaiian  fruit   punch to go with
their wonderbread sandwhiches of P&J  as if it were mana  from the gods
; 

Daddy  meantime has found  himself a large leafy oak to snooze and
peruse his  biography of Einstein under. Here he can  idle the afternoon
while keeping one eye open   while  escaping  the  heat of  the day   .

 

But that was summer and several books ago .

Its now late December and  the "Silver Sled " sits lonely and forlorn
in the cold  crisp hoarfrost 

of the  December moon  . 

She sits by the  edge of the pasture silently  awaiting for the  call of
summer once more  when she can go and play and  become useful again  .  

 

It will be a minuet before I can get out to her  ;

 First I have to wait until  peanut goes to sleep  ;;and to do that this
night will take reading to her   a promised story 

  "When the Grinch stole Christmas " 

while maybe autobiographical sketch in subject matter ;  this story as
you all know  this is not a quick read 

To successfully  read it  to peanut  requires  the skill of bells and
whistles and  the creative  nuances of  voice overs especially  for the
complicated character of the Grinch  .

The reading  however wears her down until her eyes finally give in  and
off she goes  to sleep    

 

Nows the  chance 

With her fast asleep    I make my plan  to get her Santa presents out of
my truck 

 and into the silver sled ;so there won't be any discovery in the
morning 

Then on Christmas eve Ill move them into the house   

Short and sweet ; well almost   .

 

First I  get bundled up in my winter coat ; then slip on  my camp shoes
over my  woolen socks ;and head to the truck while securing  a  head
lamp flashlight to the center of  my forehead  

Its  led light guides my way as I  trudge out into the cold confines of
this winters night  

There in the pale light of the  moon  I find my truck;  then with her
santa treasures retrieved and under arm   I secretly steal back  over
to the Silver Sled  for  drop off 

 again short and sweet 

All  is going swimmingly 

Not since I had worked for our embassies in the communist countries had
I been awarded  such 

intrigue and  mystery  

I got to the silver sled walking Indian style ;  then looking all around
to make sure I wasn't observed   I pulled open the  frozen door with a
hard jerk 

The  hard pull broke the air seal of the passenger door  making a giant
sucking sound;at the door gasket  and brought forth  three Christmas
packages to come pilng out of there and crashing   to the cold ground  

I was furious ....Someone (my bother in law again ? had taken liberty of
my hiding place  without telling or asking me  

This was incredulous ;  who ever put these in here  im going to call and
tell them  to get them .....now  

.... Christmas or no Christmas .I live here and have the right to my own
spaces .

after all .enough is enough .. I want my space ;  I want my Christmas
back 

I am Freezing my sleigh  bells off here and  I find myself getting more
angry and upset  by the moment 

 Im going to kill who ever did this 

I turn my head lamp  to scan the presents  for clues .

The first thing I notice is that the packages were  crudely wrapped in
ribbon and slightly disheveled  with  un even edges carrying   too much
tape 

I expertly picked them up  for closer examination ; gingerly turning
them  on end as if they were the work of the  uni bomber 

after all  I was scanning  for evidence on who to call and get over here
;this was serious business 

I was looking for anything ; a name tag ,a sign ; a bit of telltale
forensics; anything at all that would point a finger to  the  capture
and conviction of the   guilty party   

At first I couldn't find any thing ; nada  .zip ;

then my head lamp picked up  one piece of incriminating evidence; a
small name card 

;  a home made cut from the  wrapping paper and  pasted haphazardly to
the  box  .

I fingered it nervously for legibility; 

 It was in primitive cursive as I  read aloud its Christmas message  

 

To Daddy "     

 Merry Christmas .....LOVE xoxox .Peanut .

   /py

 

 


-- 
**Please remember to trim posts, as requested in the Terms of Service** 

To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html 


<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>


The information in this email and any attachments may contain


confidential information that is intended solely for the


attention and use of the named addressee(s). This message or


any part thereof must not be disclosed, copied, distributed


or retained by any person without authorization from the


addressee. If you are not the intended addressee, please


notify the sender immediately, and delete this message.


<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>



--
**Please remember to trim posts, as requested in the Terms of Service**

To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
<http://listserv.icors.org/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>