Christmas Tidbits...

When Toby was just a little guy, around five or six, he asked for a Nerf gun for Christmas.  The very instant my mom read that on Toby's wish list, she was more than happy to get it for him.  However, I was expecting some little single shot pistol or perhaps a double barrel shotgun.  Having not had a Nerf gun since I was little, I had no idea how much the toy makers at Nerf had evolved.

This is what Toby ended up with (Grandma was pleased):

Yes sir, times had certainly changed.  This little piece of bad-ass plastic had a 25 round belt designed for a quick reload and a tripod for improved accuracy.  I actually found myself a little envious.  Toby was over joyed.

The morning after Christmas started out peaceful.  Karla and I slept in which, for parents of an early riser, meant we got up around 7:00.

Karla was the first to get up.  I lay in bed and listened as she slowly and quietly got up and left the bed room.....Once she crossed over from the bedroom and into the kitchen, all peace and tranquility was completely, and irrevocably, shattered.

I have no idea what time Toby got up or how long it took him to recon and set up the ambush site.  But he did his job well, the surprise was complete.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat

"Ah!!!  Toby!!! Stop!!!"

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.

I took the ensuing chaos as my cue to roll over and go back to sleep.....There would be no cavalry on this day.......Karla was on her own.

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When Tera was getting cookies and milk out for Santa, I suggested that perhaps Santa was tired of milk and may, in fact, prefer a beer.

Tera went from jitterbugging about the house and joyfully singing Christmas songs to stone cold silence.  All joy was sucked out of the room and I could sense that I had just committed an unforgivable holiday faux pa.

I never knew a four year old's eyes could grow so cold as she glared at me....I could feel the ice daggers ripping through my body.

"Dad, you know Santa can't drink and drive."

For a brief moment I thought about telling her that Santa didn't actually drive the sleigh.  That it was Rudolph that did the driving.

I then thought about telling her that too much milk is not healthy and that it can bound up the jolly old elf.....My word, you wouldn't want to not get your presents because Santa's in the hospital with impacted bowels would you?

But, concerned for my own well being,  I wisely let the matter die.  If Tera would have had a bat in her hand, I fear she may have used it.  Thus ensuring that Santa would skip our house for years to come.

How dare I even suggest that Santa partake of an alcoholic beverage?  Heathen......

"You're right, pumpkin.....Go get the milk."

"Ok."  Tera was happy again as she skipped into the kitchen and resumed singing.....

Whew.....Crisis averted.


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I'm just not a big fan of putting up Christmas lights.  I tried to be, but it just didn't work out.  It wasn't them, it was me....No, really.

Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas lights.  I'll walk around the neighborhood and check out all the cool displays.  But that's where the fun stops.  Usually, I procrastinate and end up putting up the lights a week into December.  Of course, it's always miserably cold and I'm shivering on the roof as I reflect on the wisdom of putting them up sooner.

This year, Karla and Toby put them up; and I was not about to deter them from partaking in such mirth and merry making.....Fa la la la la.......

Taking them down usually happens around late February, early March....And that's only because the not so subtle hints I'm getting start to become louder and more frequent.

In fact, if not for Karla, I would be one of those chowder heads that would always have an excuse to not take them down. (Assuming I put them up at all.)

Spring:  it's too wet out...I don't want to slip on the roof.

Summer:  It's too hot out....It's not worth heat stroke just to take down a few lights.

Fall:  Hell, it's only four months until Christmas....We may as well leave them up.



But worse than the house lights is one particular inflatable Frosty that just drives me up a wall.

No matter how hard I try, I cannot get this stupid thing to stand upright.  Karla even went so far as trying to tie it down to the house, to no avail. (Ok, I'll admit....I didn't put that much effort into it)

Aggravated, I gave up and set a cheap bottle of whiskey next to him:

So there you have it....At least now the bum has an excuse for laying around.

Yeah.....When life hands you lemons......

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Karla,  I didn't know that that bag of candy you had hidden at the bottom of the deep freeze, underneath the piles of frozen meat, was for the upcoming family Christmas get together. You're probably wondering how I stumbled across it in the first place.  Let's just say it was an accident and leave it at that.

 I now understand how it got the name "Christmas Crack" as I simply couldn't stay out of it.  I'm really sorry.  No, really.

I honestly didn't think it was possible to wipe out a gallon bag of candy on my own......(it did take me all day and I did share a little bit of it)

(Burp)....You know what...... I feel kinda sick....I think I'll go lay down for a while.

Are you going to make more?