Atypical Christmas

At this time of year, everything gets pretty damn cheery. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just… well… predictable. The appearance of Santa, candy canes and reindeer somehow flips a switch in our brains that sets us in “Merry Mode.” We venture out into retail hell, smile and wish complete strangers all the best (of what exactly?! We don’t know these people!) and pretend we’re happy that we’re spending “disposable income” that we already disposed of a month ago. “Oh, what the hell,” we say, “it’s the holidays!” Holidays make everyone nostalgic. People speak of “traditions” with such reverence. Family gathering around the fire, at the feet of Grandpa Joe, while he reads ’Twas the Night Before Christmas. Strangely though, in their memory, Grandpa Joe sounds more like Burl Ives or James Earl Jones. Aunt Matilda, who likes vodka just a tad too much, is glowingly described as “the life of the party”… conveniently forgetting that someone always has to drag dear Aunt Matilda out from under the pile of coats by the end of said party. Now… let me stop you before you go assuming I’m some old Scrooge. I’m not. I adore Christmas. It’s a beautiful time that actually makes folks slow down and remember… and if those memories are a little too sugar plum fairy, who cares? I am heartily in favor of focusing on dancing candy rather than dancing Aunt Matilda! Although, truth be told, she’s funnier. A sense of humor can get anyone through the holidays. If people were honest about their REAL holiday traditions, we’d spend more time laughing and less time stressing over things like PS3s and TMX Elmos and all the other impossible - to - find - no - matter - how - much - you’re - willing - to- spend gifts. So, I’ve decided to get the ball rolling today by sharing a first TRUTHFUL tradition (and welcome you all to contribute some of your own by leaving a comment or dropping me an email!)… Putting up the Christmas lights! Who doesn’t like their home to look like the perfect, tranquil, snow-covered, twinkly scene from the front of a Christmas card? However, to get there involves untangling sets of lights that, somehow over the summer, morphed into something that threatens the “World’s Largest Twine Ball.” It’s a wonder you can even roll the damn thing out of the shed! After spending 16 hours passing over, passing under and passing through… you’re about ready to pass out! Yet, the fun is just getting started. Now you have to hang ‘em. Taking a cue from years past, you decide to plug in the strings and check them BEFORE you staple them to the roof. Good thing the hardware store has that sale… every other light is burnt out. Standing bleary-eyed and shoulder to shoulder with about 50 other people, you all read the boxes… and commiserate... “Crap! Do you know if these are the right voltage for the SuperDuperExpensive brand lights they sold here last year?” “If I use indoor lights outside, will they still work?!” “Does ANYONE know where you can buy these in RED?” You finally just grab 20 boxes of replacement bulbs and pray all the way to the register that they’re going to fit. Back home, you do more screwing than a frat boy in a whore house and finally, you’re ready for the ladder. Up and down you go, stapling lights, your sleeve, your pant leg, and very nearly a finger, to the house. All set to bask in your decorative genius, you connect the lights to the extension cord. Well, you WOULD connect them if you had a male and female end to jam together. As it stands, you only have two female ends to slide against each other… popular in porn; VERY bad in Christmas lights. Ripping the lights OFF the house in a hail of staples, you begin again... and finally get things in the right order. Plug in the extension and TA-DAH! Why are they BLINKING?! They aren’t supposed to be BLINKING. Looking at one of those packs of replacement bulbs, you realize NOW that the white ones make the lights blink. You didn’t WANT the white ones to make the lights blink. Back up the ladder you go. Every white light gets changed for a red or green or blue and, finally, a sum total of 24 hours later, you have the lights you wanted. You call the family out to bask in the non-blinking, multi-colored glow of your talent and your wife says, “They look great, hon. Now you can start on the bushes.” You decide, at that moment, to visit Aunt Matilda.