This is the actual text message exchange with my brother: He writes: Just got my Xmas present from you. You were very generous this year. Perplexed, I write: Huh!?! He replies: I just bought my Christmas present from you … for myself. Therefore unless you are some Christmas hating heathen, you are required to spend the same amount on yourself, or you get the Scrooge/Grinch Before They Learned Their Lesson Award. Confused, but playing it off — like I know what in the heck he is talking about — I write: Cool. How much you spend?
The perfect freshly-cut ex-husband Christmas tree
It’s the age-old question: Do you tell your mother it was her ex-husband who picked her Christmas tree? On the one hand, she might throw it out. She might burn it, causing a fire that incinerates half the town. On the other hand, it’s delicious information. It might be fun to see her reaction … if used at just the right moment … like when she criticizes me for letting my daughter wear this or that. “Oh yeah!” I could retort. “Well, dad picked your Christmas tree. HA! Your house has ex-husband cooties.”
All I want for Christmas? For everyone to stop asking
What do I want for Christmas? Peace on Earth and good will toward men. Now stop asking! It’s that time of year when family starts calling. Starts emailing. Starts prodding. Starts employing ESP on us. All in order to spirit away gift ideas, mainly for the resident 5-year-old.
Oh, For the Sake of ‘Tradition!’
“Tradition,” bellows Tevye like a summer thunderstorm in “Fiddler on the Roof.” “Tradition!” It’s been stuck in my head since I saw my sister Lauren’s high school production of it last month. She played Golde, and I must say she was quite good. Well, that is if you can get past this blonde teenage, very-American girl playing a Russian Jewish mother of five in turn-of-last-century peasant garb and heavy accent. Excuse me, but didn’t I just see you on a smart phone texting a friend? How peasant is that?!? Anyway, that song’s been bouncing around in my head ever since, which is maybe why Tevye called me the other day, his voice disguised as my mother’s.
An Illuminating Christmas Tradition
“You know what we’re doing tonight?” I asked the assembled at the dinner table … even an anxious dog. “We’re going to see CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!” And many merry “yees” and “yahoos” were heard all around (even from an anxious dog.) For nothing says Christmas like cruising neighborhoods in search of the spectacular, audacious, gaudy, inspiring, kilowatt-consuming Christmas light displays. It’s a serious and time-honored tradition in my house — one that goes back to my own childhood and similar adventures with my dad. What a joy to now share it with my daughter.
Holiday Gift Giving 101
Could you use a little gift-giving advice this time of year? I figured as much, so I thought I would share some of my time-honored tricks and traditions that are sure to help you this holiday season: • A couple years ago, my brother and I were sitting somewhere when we both turned to each other at the exact same moment and blurted out, “How about we stop giving each other Christmas presents … FOREVER!” It was probably during a drunken fight, but with a quick handshake we cemented the most brilliant holiday tradition ever imagined: the “brother I love you, but ain’t buying you nothing for Christmas” tradition. It’s a way of getting back to the reason for the season, and eliminating at least one person from the shopping list. It works for us and might just work for you.
As the Christmas Gift Sharks Circle
The gift sharks are circling. Hungry and anxious, their teeth snapping as they break the surface. Fins ominously cutting through the water, splashing, growing more impatient. Waiting for something to fall so they can snap it up. Their ghost-like cries of, “What does Amelie want for Christmas? Tell me what Amelie wants for Christmas!” Wait a minute … sharks don’t talk! But they do in my family. Do you have any gift sharks in your brood? We all do, especially when there are children around. In my family there is only one child, which means all attention turns to her come Christmas time. And that can be a little much. It’s like chum in the water and a full-on feeding frenzy.