The Drunken Angel

She sat on our tree every year, this angel in a plastic blue dress with white wings.  She even lasted longer than three artificial Christmas trees and a whole set of ornaments.  She was molded in one piece and even her hair was a plastic blond.  Stuck up inside of her was a small light that topped off the decorations, making her queen of the tree.  Well, of course that wasn't all that was crammed up under her rigid dress.  She also had a giant tree branch pinning her on her perch.

The Gift Matters

"It's the thought that counts," is what people say when they get a crappy gift, or a present that a two-year old picks out.  I mean, let's be honest.  How many team logo ties can one person own?  And those "Your #1" mugs that seem to go to distant relatives or to your boss are really false advertisements and given simply because you didn't want to spend the money on a real gift like Reese's Cups.  Not everybody can be #1 and when I get a shirt that says "#1 Dad" on it, I have to wonder how many others were in the running and why wasn't I even told there was a competition?  Were the boys taking applications and the others just sucked worse than me?

The Stockings Aren't the Same

The boys have had the same stockings since they were born. They're traditional fare, a dark red sock with a white fluffy top.  Char, with glue and glitter, had placed each name in gold or silver centered neatly on the bed of fluff.  As I glance at them today, hanging from an eggshell wall, they’re the same stockings. They haven't changed and I doubt they ever will as long as we continue to put them up.

No, it's not the stockings that have changed as much as what goes inside.  Even though they may act it at times, our kids are not really kids.  They're men and women in their own right and Disney jigsaw puzzles may not bring the Christmas smile that it used to.  Sighs, I miss the days of cheap parenthood.

An Auto Correct Feature

I love my iTouch, which I was recently told is called an iPod Touch.  It’s hard enough using the thing without remembering the proper term for it, so Touch works fine for me.  I like it because of its mobility.  Most of my essays are typed with my right thumb while skirting around town dodging overly safe drivers.  The part about it that drives me nuts is the auto-correct feature.  Don't get me wrong, it also has some good points - if I'm paying attention, that is.  Sometimes, it'll predict the word I'm trying to say and just offer it up so I can stop typing and move onto the next word.  It's quite a handy function that delays my thumbs being put into traction.  Still, if I'm not paying attention it causes utter confusion.  As I look back over some manuscripts my characters have yelled, "Shut the he'll up."  At first I thought it just didn't like the four letter words until I read, "Vie come to pick up the kids," and found myself wondering how Vie got into my story.  Furthermore, sometimes I question the programmer, like the time it corrected "think" into "thunk".

My Gift Giving Rules

It starts in September, sometimes creeping out even in August, those subtle and quite often not-so-subtle hints that are uttered during the commercials you have to watch because you forgot to record your favorite show.  “Oh, look at that, honey.  It cuts little tomatoes into the shape of Mt. Rushmore.  Wouldn’t that just be so cute at parties?  If I got one of those for Christmas I would definitely start having parties.”  And so the holiday season begins.

The Decorations of Nostalgia

It's that time again.  The turkey is safely secured in my stomach, pecan pie devoured and the kids have washed away the evidence.  That was a rule I made long ago.  The ladies had slaved over the Thanksgiving feast for hours and it was only right for the men to do clean up duty, and by men I mean the children, of course.  But all that is done and naps have been had.  It's now time for the storage tubs to be brought out and the Christmas decorations scattered around.  When I say tubs I am referring to all ten of the five feet long, two feet deep and two feet wide containers crammed full of Santa Clauses and snowmen.  It's my favorite time of year and our family goes all out.

I can't help it.  The lights, the bright colors and glistening decorations, a person can't help but feel the rush of excitement that comes with the holiday season.  Of course, it could also be attributed to the spiked eggnog, but that's our little secret.