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Date: | Mon, 26 Dec 2005 06:59:49 -0500 |
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Michael,
Always wonderful to get your missives on the missus and the peanut. I
just can't figure out where you find the time to actually write it all
down. Around here Christmas starts by going to bed at 2:00am and then
waking at 4:30am and is not stop chores and chortling until the sleep of
reason at 9:30pm. Bravo and a very Happy New Year to you and family.
Laura sends her love.
Best,
Leland
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From: The listserv that takes flossing seriously!
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Sent: Sunday, December 25, 2005 6:22 PM
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Subject: Re: [BP] Christmas message
Christmas morning
My enlightened brother in law got Peanut a set of cap pistols and a
cheap feathered war bonnet now she and her 4 yr old cousin have got me
holed up in my office room circling as they ride up and down the wood
floors on horse sticks discharging their firearms and calling for my
surrender with assorted war whoops and blood curdling cries.
I got the dog in here with me and we are attempting to send smoke
signals with the Christmas cigar I got in the mail,
The stick horses these rascals ride nowadays don't come cheap as they
are constructed with the built in recordings of the clippitty -clop
and whinnies.; .
I'm not sure how long I can hold out, my pup is crossing her legs so it
won't be long .
Its late Christmas morning ;and I have circles under my eyes
. I have been at with the little darlings since they woke me at 5:30 am
and right now the din of their war party of going up and down the hall
is sounding less like the joy of Christmas and more like Custers
crossing of the Little Big Horn ..
Reading the Chinese instructions on putting together the vanity set at
two in the morning didn't help either
My Mrs. ,who cares not for the cee-gar smoke wants me to surrender it
and take up religion .( the 11 am Christmas service)
I say nutten doing . until all sides lay down their arms and take baths
to get ready for pow -wow service at the great chiefs house I ain't
budging .
We discuss the terms of surrender through the knot hole in the door
which serves as a speaker phone .The terms are difficult ; I have to
shave, give up the cigar ,and where some cheap ass swill of an
aftershave that will disguise its aroma and be ready in an hour and a
half .
Then to make matters worse I have to also wear a dopey Christmas ties
that her myopic aunt gave me Its one of those that sport a Frosty the
Snow man surrounded by red sequins. on a red field
I am appalled . My kids have it worse .They have to wear some hideous
Christmas outfit of Mary Janes and plus fours that her aunt dreamed up
from the Birmingham edition of Red book .
She in turn has to give me "quality time " in front of the sports TV
with out interruption .
We trade our cards like this going back and forth through the hole.
The negotiation is tough but I seem to be getting somewhere when I spy
through the window glass more of my in-laws pulling up the driveway
and exiting their cars with arms full of fruit cake, ribbon boxes ,and
kids with what? Cap guns ..
The situation is now deteriorating rapidly. I holler to my wife
"abandon ship "and disappear down the hall wearing my ill fitting pair
of Christmas Scooby doo boxers that my daughter thought I needed , .
I find my fuzzy blue robe and house shoes under a pile of torn ribbon
and wrapping paper and count the seconds until the bell at the front
door rings .
The bells rings and go to the door munching the last of my Rolaids
for courage .
There at the window of the door is a collection of low stout women
wearing church helmet hats looking look like they may play linemen
for the Packers .
I answer the door with a loud Ho-Ho-Ho. Hoping by some chance that my
beaver breath my wife is complaining about all morning might scare em
off .
Nothing doing ,I barely got out the last Ho when my body was crushed
with a barrage of boxes and prickly red corsages that scourged my naked
chest .
Blinded by the Lilac perfume I am then pummeled into submission by a
lashing of mushy kisses and then backslapped into stupidity by their
overweight husbands wearing bright red suspenders and checkered pants
. .
I feel kike Ive been in a car wash
Underfoot the crowd the kids pounced on one another l and exchanged pot
shots between our knees in a running battle around grownups with their
cap pistols.
My knees are thrown by the weight of the women by now are doing
everything humanly possible to keep from buckling . .
The mob then suddenly breaks and spills past me as if there had been a
call for a free lunch,.
Suddenly I am standing all alone in the hall and holding on to all
the ribbon boxes while wearing a red smear of lipstick on my forehead
.
Unable to see behind the boxes I stumble down the hall dazed behind the
crowd .
I enter the drawing room where I am not helped with the boxes but
chided by my Mrs. For getting "fresh" with her cousin while she wipes
the smear from my forehead.
The act creates a great primitive roar of laughter, to which I keep
telling myself that Christmas comes but once a year and then watch with
horror as the unwanted guests sit down and entertain themselves by
talking loudly and putting their feet up on the furniture while draining
the nut bowl of its provisions ,
In a few moments we go over by the tree we exchanges gifts and while I
can't refuse their lovely offers of hardened fruit cake I get a chance
to get even with Hi test shots of my Grappa snaps that I have been
saving for just such an occasion .
The snaps has them gasping with dyspepsia and pausing between their
words
. Meanwhile the ongoing range war with the little darlings and the cap
pistols continues up and down the front stairs with the Mrs. giving me
anti- Christmas stares should I try and stop them
Frustrated I secretly declare war on the guests and plan on their
hasty departure if not their demise through their gluttony .
I do this by offering up portions of a local delicacy called Vinnea
sausages that are highly spiced and are known to cause hemorrhoids if
not other serious ailments in that area
I announce that they are a tradition "of the house" then coyly add that
everyone has good luck " who eats them . Try "at least one "
The chemistry of imbibing Vinnea sausages and chasing it with Snaps has
been known to clear out all but the worse couch potatoes .
Within minuets the guests were excusing themselves to the water closet
and making gestures with their hands either politely patting their
chests or as in the case of the men outright pounding their chests as
if trying to beat back the vile gas that was destroying their esophagus
.
Within minuets it was clearly time to go ;and as the old kitchen radio
played the strains of " "Its Beginning to look a lot like Christmas "
our wobbly guests, despite my protests, excused themselves ,collected
their petulant children ,and staggered out the door while I shadowed
their retreat with more offers of libation and this time Christmas
Cookies with hard icing that "were a must" . .
We made it to church in time for what I can only describe was a Chinese
fire of dashing in and out of closets and stumbling over the Christmas
wrapping paper looking for socks .
The rest of the morning was spent repenting for what had happened
.I even wore my dopey Christmas tie like a hair shirt and doused
myself with the odious aftershave Brad Pitt sells by sprinkling it
into his underclothes to mask the smell of my cigar
The other parishioners who seemed high on Listerine gave me a wide
berth in my pew .
The Christmas message was: "Love thy neighbor
which I am all for... Michael
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