THE SAN DIEGO CHARGERS BEAT THE INDIANAPOLIS COLTS TODAY!!
Goodbye 13-0. Hello 13-1. Sorry, guys. Someone was bound to do it. I was kinda hoping it’d be us, but I didn’t really think it WOULD be.
Oh, I cheered and coughed, and then, dammit, I coughed some more.
But it was worth it.
What a game. What a GREAT game.
Well, I can still do the Christmas question of the day, if nothing else! We’ve missed a few days here, so I think I’ll do a total of 12 days of questions.
Here’s Question 9 — one I came up with because I want to know:
Have you ever peeked at your Christmas presents BEFORE Christmas? If you’ve ever been an accomplished Christmas sneak, what were your methods? Did you get caught? What were the consequences?
C’mon. ‘Fess up.
I’ll start.
One Christmas when I was about 10, I poked around in my brother’s room, of all places, and found his present to me. Later, I STUPIDLY let it slip at the dinner table — do not ask me HOW or WHY; I cannot remember — and my brother nearly burst into tears. After I apologized to my brother, my mom punished me by marching me over to the Christmas tree and telling me I had to choose one of my presents to give back. I cried and cried as I tried to pick which one of the shiny wrapped packages I’d miss the least. Naturally, I gave her back the smallest one. I never knew what it was. I still don’t.
Seemed kinda harsh, maybe.
Another story:
A friend of mine was such an expert Christmas sneak when she was little that she’d UNWRAP already wrapped presents, look at them, and wrap them right back up. She was good at the rewrap, so no one ever knew.
That’s skill, man.
Well, everyone …. I’ve relapsed with the pneumonia. I’ve been struggling with this for over a month now. I don’t think I took it that seriously, so now — it’s baaaack!
I know the content here has been light, but I’m just not able to focus too well. I’m so sorry.
Well, I know I’m blatanly ripping off the Overheard in New York people, but I have to share this:
My Beloved and I were sitting in a booth Saturday morning, having breakfast at one of our “spots.” A few moments after we arrived, three women were seated behind us. One was a new mother, toting her new baby carryall basket thingy, complete with new baby inside. She proceeded to take him out and make him “stand” on the table for her poor, captive audience to “ooh” and “ahh” over.
I couldn’t see this since my back was to them, but I was getting the play-by-play.
But I could hear THIS, clear as day:
Friend: Wow! He looks like a little monkey!!
Mom: WHAT?!
Friend: Well, you know, in a GOOD way.
I confess — I turned around to look at the wee babe.
He DID look like a little monkey.
And NOT in a good way.
This is a post from last Christmas, but it may be new for some of you.
I just love this little incident too much NOT to repost it:
So, I’m going to hell. Yesterday, I had a phone conversation with my 4-year-old niece where I pretended to be Santa Claus.
Yup. And this blog is now my cyber confessional.
Here’s the scene: My sister and I were on the phone. In the background, I heard Piper saying she wanted to "talk on da phone." Now, she didn’t know who my sister was talking to, and once she said hello, something …. happened to me. I spontaneously, inexplicably found myself saying, in the single WORST man-voice imitation of all time, "Ho Ho Ho! Pii-perrr …. this is Saaanntaa!"
(When I re-enacted it later for My Beloved, he couldn’t look directly at me. He simply cringed and declared, "Uhh, you sound more like a ghost. Or the Movie Phone guy.")
But it’s TRUE. I DID.
So I truly thought there was no chance — NO CHANCE — that she’d fall for it. Of course, the jig would be up instantly. I mean, I’d never been able to fool her with a "voice" before. But then there was an audible gasp on the other end of the phone. I waited for her to say, chidingly, "Tee Tee, I know it’s you." But she didn’t. Her little, speech-classed voice excitedly said:
"Santa?! Hi, Santa!"
(Ohhhhhh, nooo. Flames of hell tickling my toes.)
I had a split second to decide. I was so sure she’d already be laughing at me and saying, "You so funny, Tee Tee." But once I realized she was actually BELIEVING me, I had to keep going. What was I going to DO? Stop in the face of such excitement and lamely say, "Ha ha ha. Just kidding, Piper"?
So girding my dubious wits for this festive fraud, I bellowed:
"Have you been a good girl, Pii-perrr?"
"Oh, yes, Santa. I be good," she breathed.
"Well, why don’t you tell Sanntaa what you want for Christmas?"
Holy MOLY, I sounded stupid. The hellfires were spreading. So was the sweat. At that point, I just prayed that she’d keep believing.
She said something I couldn’t quite make out, so I just replied:
"Welll, o-kaaay. Sanntaa is writing that down. What else do you want for Christmas, Pii-perrr?"
I almost cried when she said, simply, "Dust a toy."
I had to pause to take a breath.
"What kind of toy, Pii-perrr?"
"Dust a toy," she repeated.
I told her I was writing that down, too. I was about to lose it. I wasn’t sure if I’d melt into tears or laughter, but one of them was imminent.
"So, Pii-perrr, are you going to leave Sanntaa some cookies to eat?"
"Oh, yes, Santa. I wiw!"
"Ho Ho OHH, that’s good. Sanntaa likes cookies!" (Seriously, Movie Phone guy, watch out.)
"Okay," she said softly.
Finally, I said, "O-kaay, Pii-perrr. I’m coming to your house on Christmas Eve. But you need to be asleep. Okaaay, Pii-perrr?"
"Oh, yes, Santa. I be sweeping for shore."
"That’s good. You make Sanntaa verry haappy. HO HO HO! Bye Bye, Pii-perrr!"
Oh …. Sweet …. Lord …. forgive …. me. Fraud over, I collapsed back on the sofa to catch my breath. My sister was back on the line.
"Oh, thank you for calling, Santa." I could tell she was stifling laughter. She was gently coaxing Piper to leave the room so we could talk, but apparently, my niece was frozen in place, a wide-eyed, open-mouthed statue.
I told my sister, "Tell her Santa needs to talk to mommy about some Christmas surprises." (Refer to forgiveness plea above.)
She did, and Piper bolted from the room. My sister was in hysterics.
"How did you do that without laughing?"
"I don’t know!" I wailed.
"I could hear you. That was the worst voice I’ve ever heard you do."
"I know!" I wailed.
"All those years of acting and THAT’S what you come up with?"
"I KNOW!" I wailed.
It’s true — it was simultaneously the best AND worst performance I’d ever done.
"Well, I don’t know how she bought it, but she did. Her eyes were bugging out of her head."
My sister called this morning with news of the aftermath of SantaScam 2004. Apparently, immediately after the phone call, my elated niece insisted on calling her Nana and Pop-Pop to tell them Santa had called. She’s also quite adamant about the cookies. My sister tried to fob off some fudge on Santa, but Piper would have none of it. "No, Mommy. Santa wants cookies. He tole me. He tole me!"
I know. I know. Santa’s going to hell.
And without any cookies, too.
Continuing the birthday week homage:
My Beloved, nearly 2 years old, and his bunny.
(Look at the right hand on the window. What’s going on there? Is he attempting an escape? OR …. just coming home after a late night carousing with bunny? MB is suspiciously silent on this issue.)
And his deadpan comment on the picture?
“Manly, yes, but also loving.”
If it were socially acceptable for you to play with any children’s toy, with which toy would you be spending an obsessive amount of time?
Now, my caveats: NO video games or I’ll scream! And …. not counting that there are many of you who play with toys with your kids.
No. What I mean here is — which one would you play with all by yourself a la that episode of “Seinfeld” where Jerry drugs his girlfriend and feeds her turkey and keeps pouring wine until she’s unconscious, all so he can play with the cool retro toys on her shelf.
So for which toy MIGHT you pull a “Seinfeld”?
(And please understand I mean this tongue in cheek. No need to say “Oh, I’d never do that because of Jesus,” etc. I know. I do. 😉 )
Okay. THIS is really the final update:
#15 was guessed by lovely reader Lyn!
THE GAME IS OFFICIALLY OVER!!
And for Sal, guesser of the elusive #28, these guys stopped by to say “Congratulations!” Well, that might be what they’d say if they’d EVER stop tippy tapping their little toes, tear themselves away from that giant mirror they have, and think of someone ELSE!
THANKS to all of you who played! Hope you had fun. I know I did!
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FINAL UPDATE: That # 15 is still calling you …. The Almighty wants you to guess it. He appeared to me and told me so.
Then he told me to go somewhere far, far away and talk to this feller named Pharoah and that if he didn’t listen to me ….. well …. a-HEM …..
You guys are gonna kick yourselves. You really are. I loves ya, but I WANT you to kick yourselves. I can’t be there to kick you.
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All right. Some wee game hints for you. I wanna see this finished!! 😉 Just one word for each one still left. Here you are:
6. governmental — solved
9. anatomical — solved
15. biblical — NOT SOLVED! COME ON, EVERYBODY. “JESUS WEPT” BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T KNOW #15!!! 😉
26. Olympiad — solved
28. Broadway — solved
29. Jewish — solved
And just guess away!! If you think you know all 6, say so! (Plus, I’ll be verrry impressed. ‘Specially about that #28. # 26, too, although I think I gave a VERY blatant hint!)
Here’s an old picture of my dad. (Can you tell I’ve recently discovered a stash of old photos?) Sorry the image isn’t too clear. I tell you this — I have my dad’s eyes, same shape, same color, but I’m very fair and, well, USUALLY a blonde. Although, I’ve been nearly every color and I must say I liked being a redhead a lot.
I like to embarrass my dad by saying things over these photos like “hubba hubba, Dad” or “Look at you, Dad! You’re such a hottie!” He actually blushes. And he’s not that dark, actually. He was just tan. And lemme tell ya, he’s almost 70 and he looks 50. I’m not kidding. It’s a Dorian Gray thing, complete with a picture aging in the attic somwhere. Of course, my parents’ house doesn’t have an attic — which actually makes it even MORE freakish.
Anyway, however he’s doing it, he still deserves a “hubba hubba.”
And he always has a twinkle in his eyes.
If you could go anywhere at all to reflect and meditate on the meaning of Christmas, where would you go?
I need to add that I suppose we can reflect on the meaning of Christmas anywhere, but where is the place that would MOST enhance your experience of reflection?
Hmmm … I need to think about this one myself …
