Tag Archives: Christmas

Our dog: the gift that keeps on giving (on our bed)

26 Dec

The Smith family is precariously close to dispensing with all Christmas giving pretense and getting our own gifts. This year, we spent an inordinate amount of time sending photos to each other. We did this to make sure we gave exactly what the other person wanted.

Which shirt color do you like?

Take a closer picture. Is that sky blue or aqua?

Even then, the first words out of the giver’s mouth Christmas morning:

I kept the receipt, if you’re not happy with the shirt. The one you approved as your gift. The one I showed you before I wrapped it last night.

What happened to the days when we opened a pack of tighty whities? Sure we were disappointed. But we still said thank you to Aunt Mollie, as well as to the Bangladeshi ten-year-old who made them.

Enough with the charades. Next year, we Smiths will buy our own gifts, wrap them, put them under the tree. We’ll fake surprise when they open them.

71PMb6vD7xL._SL1500_Ooh! A supersized stick of Old Spice deodorant! How did I know exactly what I wanted?

That will save a lot of time and disappointment.

This year, I still tried for an element of surprise. Wife #1 had been talking about replacing the comforter on our bed. I don’t know why we needed to replace the current comforter. The bed is always covered with countless pillows that obscure it. I often wonder how much of my life has been spent taking off those useless pillows at night and returning them to the bed the next morning. Still, I am an attentive husband. Therefore, I suggested Daughter #1 give her mother a new comforter. (My wife and I don’t officially exchange presents, though I seem to get a lot of gifts from the dog.)

Instead of making it a surprise, however, D1 asked W1 all sorts of questions: Color preference? Design? Piping? Duvet? Shams? I thought we were just getting a bed cover.

During this questioning, W1 told D1 she would like to have a white comforter, but she worried that I would get it dirty.

What? I work indoors. I shower semi-regularly. The only time I sit on the comforter is when I put on my socks and shoes. I did not realize I was a walking dirt ball. But our dog? That’s another story.

You can read more about the mutt here, but my wife adores that dog. The feeling is mutual. The rest of us are only bit players in their love affair. Therefore, no surprise, the dog sleeps on the bed. Here’s the problem: The dog is not young. The dog is mildly incontinent. Once or twice a week, I will find tiny round balls of dried poop on the comforter. I assume these “gifts” come from the dog, because I don’t want to imagine the alternatives. So why isn’t W1 worried about the dog getting the comforter dirty?

I’m asking myself this question as D1 and I stand in the linen section of a department store two days before Christmas. Time is wasting.

“Get the white comforter,” I say.20141226_074851

Christmas day: W1 loves the comforter. D1 launders it, along with its myriad accessories. She puts them on our bed that evening. She is a good daughter.

W1 and the dog sleep in the bed. I am allowed to sleep there, too. (I am but a guest in my bedroom.)

This morning, I discover a tiny ball of poop on the comforter. The dog has christened the bed. I don’t tell my wife, because what good would it do? She would look at me suspiciously, as though I were making it up to get the dog in trouble. Meanwhile, the dog would look at me with mild contempt.

But I know the truth, and so does Santa. That is why the dog received a lump of coal in her stocking Christmas morning. The jolly old elf and I know who has been naughty. It’s a an eight-pound ball of black fur.



Things I didn’t get for Christmas

27 Dec

I got everything I wanted for Christmas this year, which was peace, love and understanding. What’s so funny about that?

Not to be picky, but I offer a short list of things I didn’t get for Christmas. I make them available for anyone doing some early shopping for next year:

  1. The purpose of semicolons; I didn’t get them.
  2. I didn’t get the reason the high fade hair style has returned. high-fade-haircut
  3. I didn’t get why Nike charges its customers so much to advertise its stuff.   Nike-Victory-Mens-Basketball-Shorts-482943_890_A
  4. You, too, NorthFace.NorthFace
  5. And Dolce & Gabbana baby boots? 354X490TMPL
  6. What bad economy?
  7. I didn’t get why we all put up with it.
  8. Maybe I should silk screen some shirts with “smithdeville.com” on them and sell them for forty bucks each.
  9. I’m sure there’s a factory somewhere in Bangladesh with excess capacity.
  10. I didn’t get the sustained popularity of some musical acts.
  11. I’m talking about you, Bon Jovi.
  12. Is it the hair?  jovi
  13. Does this mean we’ll see Justin Bieber singing at massive fundraisers thirty years from now?
  14. That should make people take global warming more seriously.
  15. Do you want another Hurricane Sandy-like catastrophe that leads to Bieber being on stage when he’s fifty, overly conditioned hair and all?
  16. That’s a rhetorical question.
  17. Makes me want to keep the thermostat at sixty-two to burn a little less coal.
  18. Honorable Mention: Dave Matthews Band.
  19. Less Honorable Mention: A tie between Leonard Cohen and Morrissey.
  20. How about a Christmas album next year by those two?
  21. That would be a real joy fest.
  22. I didn’t get gift bags.
  23. Who is buying these things?
  24. How does the gift bag industry stay afloat?
  25. All the gift bags under our tree this year had been reused.Christmas Gift Bags Set1 Product Image
  26. Some with multiple names marked out.
  27. Noah
  28. Zane
  29. Isabel
  30. “Dad”
  31. I suspect gift bag makers take two or three years off at a time  until demand catches up to production.
  32. If my new watch, which is made from corn resin and other natural stuff, is biodegradable, should I take it off if I start to sweat?20121227_091049
  33. I didn’t get Boxing Day.
  34. I get what it is, but I just don’t understand why we can’t have it in the States.
  35. We have a four-day weekend for Thanksgiving, but just one day for Christmas.
  36. Maybe after they tackle the fiscal cliff, Congress can approve Boxing Day.
  37. I’m not holding my breath on either one.


P.S. If you received a new e-reader this holiday season, please give these mildly entertaining works a go. And if you prefer the old-fashioned paper version that’s been signed, I can help you out there, too. Just leave me a comment.

The #!@%$# Tree is Up

20 Dec

We put up our tree last night. It’s a small Fraser Fir. The names comes from an old Germanic dialect which means Dude, you were totally ripped off. I much prefer another variety of Christmas tree called coniferous cheapus.


A time long ago, when the girls still liked their picture taken with the tree.

I often buy trees from the boy scouts who have a lot at a nearby church. One year I was so late that the place was already closed. The scouts had packed up their kerosene heaters and  gone to celebrate the season by their warm hearths, mainly because it’s not easy to feel celebratory by a cold hearth. Back on the dark church lawn, aka frozen tundra, I stumbled across a forlorn Charlie Browner, which was so pitiful even the dumpster was too good for it. Like a mildewed sofa abandoned on a street curb, the tree had been left for any desperate soul who didn’t want to go home to a wrathful wife and disappointed children. I felt like Christmas  had come early.

One advantage of waiting until late in the season, besides the fantastically low, low prices, is the weight of the tree. By the time I usually bring our tree home, five or six weeks have passed since it left a tree farm in the Smokies and traveled to Louisville on a big rig. Most of the moisture in the tree has evaporated, and a good percentage of the needles have fallen off. Its lighter weight eliminates some of the time and profanity usually generated when I adjust the tree so it doesn’t look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.


Dead Tree Walking

My wife and I used to take our girls to a you-cut tree farm in the country, but this period in our idyllic lives didn’t last long. There was a window of just three years when both girls were old enough, but not too old to find the experience stupid, OMG, just stupid.

When I was a kid, we didn’t buy our trees.  That would have been stupid, OMG, stupid. Instead, Dad usually grabbed a saw and went into the woods to cut one down. They were not spruces or even Scotch Pines that happened to be growing wild along a creek bank. They were invasive evergreens–ditch cedars–that needed to be eradicated even if we didn’t need a Yule tree.  The trees were flimsy and downright ugly. But once we got enough tinsel on them, and my, did we like our tinsel in the Smith household, we almost couldn’t tell the difference between them and one bought from a lot.  As long as we didn’t hang anything heavier than a feather on their weak branches, the trees held up. I occasionally still check out trees in ditches to see if they’d look good in our living room.

I have some experience on the other end of the Christmas tree life cycle, too. My brother and I, along with a couple of friends, got hired to plant them. Our employer, Keith, lived in the city, but he hoped to move back to our town when he retired to open a tree farm. Keith was known to be a little tight with his money, which meant he didn’t want to waste a single sapling. And if he was going to have to pay some kids to plant them, he expected them  to plant each one, no matter what. The weather that Saturday morning was cold but tolerable. Since I had never planted trees before, the experience was almost fun–for the first ten saplings or so. The repetitive process grew old quickly: bore a hole in the dirt, insert sapling, pack dirt around sapling, move to next hole.

By the middle of the afternoon, the weather began to turn bad. First, it was just a light misting. Our clothes were getting a little damp, but no big deal. What kid doesn’t like to be out in the rain once in awhile? We still had a lot of saplings to plant, and Keith wanted them all in the ground before the day ended. The rain began to pick up; the temperature dropped. We were working along a terrace on a gently sloping hill, going as fast we could. Water began to stream down the bank into the holes faster than we could plug them with saplings.  The rain intensified further. To quicken the process just a bit, I stuck two trees in one hole. Keith didn’t notice. We were becoming soaked. Our hands were getting cold and numb. The ground had now turned to mud. Cats and dogs were landing all around me. I began to put two trees in every hole. Still, the mountain of saplings to be planted hadn’t decreased. They seemed to be multiplying in the rain like Furbies in Gremlins. I began to stick three saplings in each hole. It seemed impossible, but the rain intensified further. At the top of the hill, animals, two by two, were boarding a large boat. Finally, with five saplings left, I stuck them all in one hole and yelled “Finished!”


The trees I planted are in there someplace. Imagery ©2012 DigitalGlobe, GeoEye, Map data ©2012 Google

I’m sure Keith eventually discovered what I had done, but I never saw him again. Who knows? Maybe those trees survived. Maybe they even look interesting. Just spit-balling  here, but let’s say someone makes another Harry Potter movie. Let’s say it’s called Harry Potter and the Doctorate Years and they need a creepy forest with triple and quadruple trunked pine trees where Harry and the gang can go to discuss their dissertations. If that were to happen, I can give them directions to a spot just west of Eagleville, Missouri.


P.S. If you’re pining (get it?) for something a little more substantial, please check out my stuff here.

Thirty-two things I want for Christmas

13 Dec

My daughter keeps asking me for a Christmas list, so I’ll write one here, which she can reference if she cares to.20121212_202940


  1. I wish companies mistakenly delivered big cans of popcorn to my office year round.
  2. Popcorn is nature’s perfect food.
  3. Especially when it has caramel drizzled all over it.
  4. But I can do without the kind with the “cheese” coating.20121213_131021
  5. That stuff would give an automaton the runs.
  6. If movie theaters didn’t have popcorn to mark up 1000%, they would go out of business.
  7. We don’t thank popcorn enough for its service to the film industry.
  8. The best kettle-cooked corn I ever had was made on the spot in Hannibal, Missouri.
  9. Little known fact: Tom Sawyer was a kettle corn fiend.
  10. Becky Thatcher had her corn issues, too.

  11. I wish I hadn’t raised my children to believe it’s not Christmas without a live tree.
  12. Live trees have become a pain in the butt.
  13. I’m still finding needles from last year’s tree.
  14. I wish my grandparents had kept their aluminum tree with the color wheel.
  15. I sometimes wish I were Jewish this time of year.
  16. I would love to eat at a Chinese restaurant on Christmas day.
  17. Or just about any day.
  18. I wish we had gotten smaller stockings for our girls.
  19. You could drop a Crown Vic in those things and still not fill them.
  20. Maybe I’ll put a roll of toilet paper in each one.
  21. My mom used to pad our stockings with oranges.
  22. The kind with seeds.
  23. I wish the produce place I go to sold those little clementine oranges year round.
  24. Those things are like orange candy that’s good for you.Clementine
  25. And they don’t have seeds.
  26. I wish Nat King Cole were here to sing The Christmas Song live.
  27. I wish I knew what Bing Crosby was thinking as he sang the Little Drummer Boy with David Bowie.
  28. I wish How the Grinch Stole Christmas ended before it got all mushy.
  29. I wish people would quit using gift as a verb.
  30. Seriously now, give was doing just fine before gift started getting greedy.
  31. “Tis better to gift than to receive?”
  32. I don’t think so.

There you go, Sophia. Have at it.


P.S. I wouldn’t mind either if anyone checked out my books here. That would make for a decent Christmas wish.