And To All, A Good Night
Merry Christmas, Innernetz! I’m not just saying that, I really mean it — MERRY CHRISTMAS!! And no, I’m not drunk on eggnog or the caustic homemade wine my uncle usually brings to family gatherings that smells like he mashed the grapes with his feet wrapped in rotten cheese and smegma. I love Christmas. I love lights, Christmas music, Love Actually, Christmas cookies, everything! That’s not to say that all my Christmas memories are sugar-coated. I was not privileged with a perfect childhood (in spite of the fact that I was a perfect child), so my childhood memories are mixed.
I have great memories of making Christmas cookies with The Cougar and wrapping presents. My favorite Christmas memories, however, are of the food baskets The Cougar would make for impoverished families. You want a Christmas miracle? It truly was a miracle how many turkeys, canned goods, pampers, boxes of formula, and packages of stuffing she was able to load into our broken down black conversion van with screen painted horses on the side. Oh yes, Santa may have had his reindeer but we had a herd of wild mustangs. And a cobalt blue shag carpet interior. The Cougar was a self-proclaimed Meals on Hot Wheels.
The best thing, and what I didn’t appreciate until later, was that she insisted on being anonymous. We’d drive around the asscrack of nowhere until The Cougar spotted a house in need of a holiday miracle. Then, she’d park down the street and we’d sneak up and leave the box on the porch. If the house had toys in the yard, she knew to put pampers and baby food in the box. And she was fearless. Barking dogs at the end of long, prison-grade chain link leashes did not deter her. With a wave of her hand, those slathering, razor sharp jaws would snap shut! Cesar Milan, you are small potatoes. The Cougar was thirty years ahead of you. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized how lucky we were to sneak up on a home in the backwoods of the Land that Time Forgot and not get a face full of buckshot. Or, even worse, we could have all wound up in some else’s food basket. I’ve seen a lot of horror movies since then.
I don’t have many good Christmas memories of Jackass I. He was either bitching about how putting up the Christmas lights was interfering with the football game or complaining that the Christmas music and singing interrupted his nap. One year he surprised me with a handmade dollhouse. That’s it. That’s my best Christmas memory of Jackass I. Oh, I have other memories. There’s the time that Jackass II and I were so excited about the gifts that Santa left that we burst into our parent’s bedroom squealing with glee. Jackass I got out of bed fumbling for his belt to give us a whippin’ for waking him up. Then there was the time that we kept walking in front of the television while decorating the tree. When he snapped off the television, Jackass II and I were so excited! We thought he was going to help us put the ornaments in the places way up high where we couldn’t reach. Instead, he snatched the boxes of ornaments out of our hands and threw them into the trash. Ahhh, good times. Too bad The Cougar wasn’t quite as good with jackasses as she was with guard dogs.
That dollhouse was a good memory, but it would eventually be razed by a bad memory. That dollhouse was around until about 5 years ago. My nephew would use it as an “apartment” for his Metal Gear and G.I. Joe action figures. Every now and then one of my niece’s Barbies would be allowed to visit, but it was pretty much a war-hero-only bachelor pad. You know, where they could kick back after a secret mission and relive blowing off heads and survey the amputated appendages that littered the playroom floor with manly pride. But Jackass I and Jackass II freaked out. Fifty grown action figures living in a blue and white house could only mean one thing. HOMO-SEX-YOU-AL-IT-EE!! Oh, noes! It was okay for my nephew to play at blowing up Polly Pockets and Ken (who, admit it, truly is gay) but seat G.I. Joe around the plastic dinner table with some friends, and katy-bar-the-door! G.I. Joe may as well be playing footsie in an airport men’s room with a hole-saw for making glory holes in his rucksack! If I remember correctly, that Christmas my nephew got more toy guns and a tank, but the Jackasses threw the dollhouse away. I understand, though. Little boys must be made to understand that real men are violent and homeless. What, is living in your tank curled up with your Uzi not good enough for you?
But here is the thing: the good memories live on. Even today, after Jackass I has made every effort to drive The Cougar to destitution, she still manages to make what little she has go far and at least once a month fixes dinner for all the servicemen and women in her area that are stationed away from home. Word of mouth has caused these dinners to blossom to over thirty men and women in uniform who want a home cooked meal away from the base. And she still goes around and leaves food baskets for the poor because she says as long as there is someone who has less than she has, she will give.
So, yeah, I don’t have only good Christmas memories, just like the rest of you. But just as G.I. Joe ripped the heads of Polly Pockets and then settled down for a spot of tea in his A-frame townhouse, the good memories grind the bad memories to shreds. And as long as we all do our best to keep the good memories happening today, the way The Cougar does, the spirit of Christmas lives on.
So, to my mom and my blogger friends and all the other sugarplums who make every day of my life sweet, thank you. I love you. You keep Christmas alive and well, and you are my Christmas miracle.
Posted on Thursday, December 25, 2008 at 09:22 PM.
Tags: It's All Relative, In The Neighborhood, La Vida Loca
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Comments & Trackbacks
Speaking of buckshot, have you read my friend TGAW’s site? Sheesh!
I think everyone has both good and bad memories of Christmas. This one will be mixed for me, for example: yes, it’s good to see the Parentage, but we’re all feeling stressed and down about the condition of my Grandmother. But keeping the good memories close is good advice, and I shall try to heed it my friend.
Merry Christmas, Dingo!
A Merry Christmas to you and yours, Dingo! May this new year be a fabulous one, full of a successfully defended thesis, love and laughter, and much blog fodder. You’ve made me laugh, think, and basically wish I could make you latkes and feed you really good chocolate. Hugs from New England!
Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas, Dingo.
I’ve got a mix of holiday memories, too. But with time (and hours of extensive, expensive therapy)I am seeing the good times and ignoring/suppressing the not as good.
And I laughed heartily at the GI Joes shackin’ up and needing to be schooled that real men sleep in their tanks! Give The Cougar a hug from me, too!
Merry Christmas, Dingo.
How did you get a picture of my house? And my daughter may as well be driving the get-a-way van with you, lol. Cougar is truly an amazing lady, and a strong one for not becoming a lazy housecat like mine due to JackassI’s influence. Yay Cougar!!! The servicemen and women are truly blessed to have her too! It’s a shame about the doll house, but alas, homelessness and violence far outway any girliness one show be exposed to. Please. Your post is awesome as usual. Have a very blessed Christmas holiday and enjoy your time with friends and family.
And did you really just say “smegma”? I didn’t know if I should cringe or laugh my hiney off at that!
Blessings Funny Lady!
GeekHiker — I am glad that you had this Christmas with your grandmother and the rest of your family. Heed my words, I am never wrong. Never. Except that one time…
O’Mama — I wish you could make me latkes and feed me chocolate as well! I think I’ve gained about 20 pounds just from reading your holiday posts. Nom, nom, nom. Best holiday wishes to your and yours.
MsDarkstar — I’m working on ignoring the not so good myself. But I’m keeping notes for when I write my tell-all.
Mr. POSSLQ — Hello, Dahlink! Happy Christmas and Happy New Year to you. Stay warm.
Jenny — The Cougar definitely is amazing. I just talked to her this morning and she’s busy planning Sunday dinner for the servicemen and women in her area. And yes, I said “smegma.” What’s Christmas without a smegma reference?
Hope you had a great Xmas, Dingo!
When I lived in the Land that Time Forgot, I volunteered at the local interfaith food pantry. When I realized that the Dead Guy and I were so poor that we were eligible for all the things they were passing out, I cringed a little. We were still so fortunate.
Merry Christmas, Dingo. Thanks for sharing the story of Christmases Past. Reminds me to be thankful.
The Cougar sounds like an incredible woman.
And maybe...just maybe....if the Jackasses wouldn’t have destroyed GI Joe’s house, he wouldn’t have had such a disastrous case of PTSD.
Bastages.
Aw, thanks for sharing your stories. I hope you had a great holiday!
Normally, I like Christmas, but for some reason I’m not feeling it this year. And because of the weather, we’ve postponed the big family awkwardbration until after the thaw. I haven’t even done my Christmas shopping yet, although from what I hear, the stores may still have some merchandise left. I think I’ll stop rambling now and wish you a Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas!
Aww, Dingo, sounds like parts of my family. We love you too. You provide us with wonderful entertainment and you are a wonderful person and friend to some of us who otherwise may have none. You obviously are a great teacher, despite your homicidal students, and we love you. Keep on bloggin’ for many more Christmases to come. Merry Christmas to you too!
April — You too, my friend. Next stop, New Year’s Eve!
k8 — Sometimes it’s easy to forget what we have when we focus on what we don’t. Hey! I sounded all Confusious-like didn’t I? You can call me Oh Wise One from now on.
Ms. H — I just think that the Jackasses should sleep with one eye open. G.I. Joe will be out for revenge.
justrun — It was great. I’m looking forward to reading about yours. I hope it involves lots of eating and maybe just a bit of running.
flurrious — Is there going to be a countdown to the awkwardbration like there was for Festivus?
Kazuki — Hello! I see you survived finals. Hooray! I hope you had a great Christmas.
Whew. That was some Christmas of days past post. I got to smile in that bittersweet way about five times. May the Cougar rein. And may all the jackasses congregate in the men’s room somewhere and talk about the meaning of life.
I hope you had a lovely holiday this year. Your mom is a remarkable woman. What a great story.
Another post that makes me wish we lived closer to so we could get The Cougar drunk off egg nog (yeah, I’m gonna have to pass on the smegma-scented wine) and draft letters to Barack on how some of the not-so-great people who’ve crossed our paths should be “managed”. We’d should probably work on some alibi’s, too.
In addition to 24-hour reruns of Clean House and The Christmas Story, you, too, are my Christmas miracle. That and the liquor store that sells pre-mixed mango margaritas.
Laura — Christmases past were hit and miss but this Christmas was great.
Jen of a2eatwrite — Thanks, lady! I hope yours was wonderful as well.
thecoconutdiaries — I watch Clean House when I should be cleaning my house. I might get off my butt to get the pre-mixed margaritas, though.
Wow. Your mom is amazing.
Hope you had a wonderful holiday!
Rachel — Hi Rachel! I’m glad you stopped by. My Christmas was wonderful. Plenty of food and plenty of sleep. I hope you had a great one, too.
I’m so sorry I missed this post! I want to hug the little you. And I want your doll house back for you.
I love you and happy new year!!
I join Crissy in wanting to hug you. I love you, Dingo. You’re MY Christmas miracle.
geez dingo, are you trying to make me all emotional and shit? your mom sounds like an amazing and beautiful human being.
ps - why did you have to write “smegma” - eeewwww.
Wow. I don’t know what possessed me to click your Jackass link today, but he sounds like a real - well, jackass. I’m sorry his son followed his footsteps. Maybe your nephew will break the cycle. We can only hope.