Tuesday, August 7, 2012

A Christmas Story

Yes, I know that it's August. But, if there can be Halloween goodies in the stores, I can talk about Christmas Past. In my family, we celebrate Christmakah. The Chanukah part is religious; the Christmas part is not. We have a traditional Chanukah where we light the candles, say the blessing, exchange gifts each night. Then, on Christmas, we play Christmas music, watch A Christmas Story at least three times and open presents. It's the presents that are the basis of this story...

One Christmas, my sisters, with excited looks on their faces gave me a big gift. They told me that this was only part of the gift and the other part hadn't arrived yet. They looked so thrilled with themselves, that I couldn't wait to open it! When I did, I pulled out a canvas bag with an unexplainable circular piece of paper inside. My mom exclaimed, "It's a cooler!" Now, for those who don't know me very well. I don't cook. I haven't been grocery shopping since March 2009. That's absolutely true. I will run in and get a cookie plate for a party or something, but other than that I avoid the supermarket like the guys on match.com who take shirtless pictures of themselves in bathroom mirrors. Also, I don't really sit on grass. I hate ants, I hate beetles, I hate spiders. It seems that whenever I sit on grass, one of those is crawling on me. So, you can see why I was confused that my sisters who know me so well, would get me a cooler as a present and be excited about it.

My face fell. I tried not to let it show, but I have one of those "open book" faces. It makes it really hard to hide disappointment. My sisters looked baffled. Until Lori said, "It's not really a cooler! Are you serious?? Do you not know what that is?"  I looked at it again, and realized that the circular piece of paper had three holes in it. It was a bowling ball bag! My sisters had bought me my own bowling ball! After that, I was much happier. And my family laughed and laughed at what a spoiled brat I am. I wanted to name my bowling ball Peter the Purple Pin Eater, but a friend told me that was too long. So, I named her Beth.

One other Christmas story comes to mind. My father is one of the best people in this world. He's sweet; he's kind; he's a fantastic dad! He's also horrible at listening. He had asked my mother what she wanted for Christmas and my mother said that she really needed a  new winter coat and that she'd like it to be brown. I'm sure my mom was expecting something like this:


My dad bought her this:




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