"Chistmas"

Our story takes place in 1990. Back during the prehistoric days of yore. The kids are toddlers and my mother-in-law is grumpy. Some things never change, eh? Here's Christmas with the Catfish Clan which is submitted for....


Well it’s time for another story. It’s December 26 and, yes, it’s time once again for “Christmas on The Pond, circa 1990.”

Christmas Eve I was all snug as a bug in a rug. I din’t have to work. This was a headline itself. I checked out the limited selections at the Blackbuster Video Store and came up with “Uncle Buck” and the classic “North by Northwest.” After a visit to the local supermarket where I encountered the slowest check-out cashier in recent memory, we headed home. Kitty, Charlie jr. and Katlain. And, me, v.c.

Babe was at the house waiting for us. Babe is my mother-in-law. She was a little grumpy today. I gave her a big hug, nevertheless, and settled down in my worn-out chair. The one that is slowly self-destructing. It’s still comfy even though Kitty wants to throw it away. Or hide it from plain sight.

I turned on the VCR to watch my Alfred Hitchcock movie and hoping to view it uninterupted and to rest after the grueling encounter at the check-out line.

“Oh, my mind isn’t working good at all,” the cashier complained as she tried to ring up my 14 cans of cat food.

“What is this?” she asked sympathetically, the green pear stretched out in her hand.

“Avacodo,” I mumbled. Wouldn’t Olga and Martin get a hoot out of that one? [ My sis and her husband who live in Northern California ]

She kept asking the fast check-out lady next to her for instructions. Twenty minutes elapsed and it was time for the coupons to close out the transtraction.

$17.25. That’s pretty good.” she responded after totaling them. She was really a sweet person but very slow.

I started to tell her I was the “King of the Coupons” but figured that would take even more time.

“Isn’t that Doctor Spock?” Babe mused as the wiry fellow came into our living room via the big screen.

“No, Babe. That’s Martin Landau.”

“Yeah, Doctor Spock.” She continued confusing Martin Landau with Leonard Nimoy.

I dozed off unexpectedly as Cary Grant was dangling from Mount Rushmore. As I slept visions of the Starship Enterprise with Captain Kirk at the wheel danced into my psyche. I woke up trembling from this nightmare.

Soon it was time for the family outing to have one last last look at the Christmas lights. Katlain didn’t want to go. She was a little grumpy. I wonder who she gets it from? Only after we told her that Santa was still grading her performance for the year, did she agree to go.

Golden Pond Park was decorated to the hilt. Lights everywhere. They even had a crane and school bus loaded with lights. Everyone’s favorite, though, was “Snowflake Lane.” All white lights simulating snowflakes descending from the sky.

“I knew that would be your favorite, Dad,” Charlie jr. bubbled as he was getting full of Christmas Eve.

He had been using a lot of bad words all night. I had encouraged him at first and had laughed at some of his shenanigans, but it was starting to get out of hand. Doo doo this and doo doo that. We brought up the Santa grading system and again how Santa might not come see him. He became worried. It was Christmas Eve. He couldn’t take any chances now. He became an angel again in the twinkling of an eye, and we headed home.

We laid the toys out that Santa would bring. All kinds of goodies. The little boys went to sleep with Babe, and I dozed off watching George Baily realize “What a Wonderful Life” he really had.

Charlie woke at 7. Kitty shorly thereafter. They woke me up from my golden slumber as Spock was being beamed up by Scotty. Babe was still grumpy.

“I woke up at 2:00,” she said. “It was so hot upstairs and Brandy, Charlie, and Katlain hogged all the room in the bed.” [ Brandy was one of our dogs pre Atlassie and Penny ]

Our little kids saw their toys and things that Santa had left them. Christmas was officially here and it don’t get no better than this. Smiles and happiness pervaded the air. Except for Grumpy Babe.

editor's note: The story rambles on about Uncle Francois, Kitty's brother, being late for Christmas breakfast. But because he brings firewood, we don't say anything. And how we ate breakfast, and Kitty ruined the scrambled eggs. And Babe was irritatingly grumpy. And slurped her coffee with every gulp. And Uncle Francois received his obligatory underwear and a coppola John Wayne movies. And a whoopee cushion enlivened the festivities. And we bade Uncle Francois adieu, so he could tend to the north forty before dark. And Babe was grumpy....