That Festive Holiday Season Aborted

This morning became the happiest day of the year when Vicki told me that we would be alone for Christmas.

Wende and family were going to his parents in Derry, Maine where they plan to watch It reruns all Christmas day. Brad and family plan a holiday with her parents in El Paso to enter the Fry-an-Egg-on-the Sidewalk-Christmas-Day contest. Plus all the cousins, aunts, and uncles are going elsewhere. As I was running around the house like Jimmy Valvano looking for someone to hug Vicki cried, “But we will miss all the fun.”

“Yes,” I replied, “You will miss five support hose in your Christmas stocking and I will miss a half-dozen brown and grey striped neckties:

  • And we won’t have five grandchildren jumping up and down on our bed at 4 o’clock in the morning yelling, “Has Santa Clause come yet.” 
  • Little Billy Ray won’t be putting away his Lionel New York Central Steam Streamlined Train Set to play with the wrapping paper and box it came in. 
  • Betty Jo and Mary Beth won’t pulling the legs off Debbie the American Girl Doll to see who gets to change her outfit. 
  • Uncle John Dale won’t smash Uncle James Henry’s Texas A&M coffee cup with his UT paper weight. 
  • Aunt Sarah Sue won’t drink all the spiked punch before breakfast. 
  • We will miss the political arguments instigated by Cousin Tommy Joe wearing his red Make America Great Again baseball cap. 
  • We’ll miss the Catholics and Plymouth Brethren arguing over infant baptism. 
  • We’ll miss the dry turkey, soggy lettuce, molded cream cheese, spoiled potato salad, loose salt shaker top, limp celery, soda-less chocolate cake, runny pecan pie. 

“But, what are we going to do on Christmas day?” Vicki asked with Brazos River tears cascading down her face.

  • We’ll sleep late and get up around nine-thirty, see who wins the race to the toilet, and hop around freezing until the furnace comes on. 
  • Then I will stare at the mirror for fifteen minutes trying to decide if I’m going to shave while you swab Oil of Olay on your neck. 
  • We’ll take our medicine for hypertension, atrial fib, heartburn, arthritis, diabetes, and wash down 30 vitamins to prevent Alzheimer’s with 64-ounces of Metamucil-laced Gatorade. 
  • For breakfast we’ll have one slice of partially burned toast, decaf Coffee, and a big glass of prune juice while yelling at the newspaper for printing negative news. 
  • After that we will watch reruns of The Price is Right, Family Feud, and Let’s Make a Deal until having a lunch of cheese, fruit, crackers and V-8 juice. 
  • Then we will have an exciting card game or two of Go Fish, take a four hour nap before a supper of fish sticks and broccoli. By then we will be so worn out we will go to bed just as the sunsets.
“That’s the same thing we do every day,” Vicki shouted in her tent meeting preacher’s voice.

I don’t know about you but I’m going to spice up my life by burning all those P. T. Barnum family letters we get in our Christmas cards. You know the ones that brag about:

  • Jenny Lou becoming fluent in French before she was toilet trained
  • Willie Jack almost pitching for the New York Yankees until he dislocated his shoulder while attempting to sign a 10 million dollar contract 
  • Hank Boy catching a bass that was bigger than Shamu the Whale
  • And the all the fun the Brown family of seven had visiting every Park Service Campground in their pop-up trailer.

“What am I going to do for fun,”Vicki pleaded like a wet puppy on a stormy night.

“Let’s invite all our friends from assisted living and party like fools until seven o’clock.”

 

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