Monthly Archives: December 2012

~ Candy Cane ~

Several years ago, My Captain’s parents used to put two giant candy canes out in front of their porch steps at Christmastime.  One on either side, these babies were hip-height, and lit up in brilliant red and white stripes…they were gorgeous.  Like they’d jumped right out of CandyLand.

Critter, who was extremely young at the time, tried his best, but these awesome candy canes were too much for his barely-out-of-toddlerhood self-discipline and somehow or another, one of them, well, let’s just say it ‘didn’t make it.’

I was mortified.  And of course I ran right out to buy Goggy and Papa a new hip-height candy cane to replace the, er…….newly-defective one.

But apparently the manufacturers of Christmas Paraphenalia didn’t make those anymore, and the only thing I could find were rather obnoxious strands of 2 foot candy canes, about 12 canes long.

So I bought a strand and put it up in their yard when they weren’t looking.

My Captain’s father, Jay, (aka Papa) took it in stride.  He chuckled, said we didn’t have to do that, and politely and patiently waited the appropriate amount of time after Christmas to take it down.  Understand this, Jay prefers above all else not to stand out.  Ever the quiet gentleman, he is the last person you would expect to see sporting a dozen light-up candy canes in his front yard.

The following year I looked again for the hip-height canes, to no avail.  But CVS was carrying the 12 cane strands again.

So I bought two dozen more.

And planted them with the previous year’s strand out in the front of Jay’s house.

When he wasn’t looking.

In the spirit of Christmas, of course.

He chuckled again.  Waited the prescribed polite time after Christmas, and promptly put them away and out of sight.

Several years went by.   I assumed he had thrown them out.

And then this year, on a particularly dark and rainy evening, when we were arriving home from a weekend visit to Hershey Park, we pulled into the driveway to our little cottage in the woods and found this:

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My Captain and the kids chuckled, but I BURST out laughing.  I mean, we are talking this would totally have been an appropriate use of the word “Gufaw,” and that is not a word that can be put to use accurately, often.

I loved that Jay did this.  I mean, I totally loved it.  The sheer Navy-Seal-like discipline.  The stealth patience it had to take to wait for so many years.  The evil genius to put it up when we were out-of-town.

I have a newfound respect for that man.

The weirdest thing had been happening, though.  Since the canes were put up, I kept finding the corner one knocked over like this:

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And every time I’d see that, I’d fix it on my way inside the house.  My Captain checked the stake to make sure it wasn’t broken.  It was not broken.  It was the weirdest thing.   It happened so regularly,  it got to the point that every day I’d come home, and out of habit, would just bend down and fix that corner candy cane as I went inside.

And then it hit me.  Or, rather, I realized that I hit it.  That is the exact spot I stop when I’m backing the ol’ Equinox up to leave.  That is the essential point in my two point back up turn.  I’ve been running over that particular candy cane every stinkin day, sometimes several times a day, since Jay put them up.

That just strikes my funny bone.  I think that is HILARIOUS.

That really is all there is to this story.  I realize it’s anti-climactic, unless you are like me and find running over the same darn-tootin’ candy cane day in and day out — figuring the problem was the candy cane all along…is classic.

…..And it does explain why I was never allowed to drive the Medic Unit at the fire station.

Those candy canes sure have given a heck of a lot of joy for the ten bucks they cost.  Who knew plastic light up candy canes could get so much good-humor mileage?

I can’t wait until next year.

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~ Easy Cheese on My Kindle Fire ~

I asked many questions today, which largely went unanswered.  Among them were:

  • “Why is there Easy Cheese on my Kindle Fire?”

  • “Would someone please take the trash out?”

  • “Why does the cat smell like butter?”

  • “Where are my reading glasses?”

  • “Would someone please take the trash out?”

  • “Does anyone know how old this casserole leftover is?”

  • “Why is there half of a candy cane stuck to the toilet seat?”

  • “Would someone please take the trash out?”

  • “When is Basketball practice for Critter tonight?

  • How long does Basketball practice run?

  • Where is it?”

  • Does Critter have basketball practice tonight?”

  • “Why is there one black sock on the kitchen table?  Do we really need to put socks on the surface we eat on?”

  • “Hey?!  Who took the trash out?!”

  • “If you’re going to cough, can you please do so AWAY from everyone’s dinner plates?”

  • “Will you stop trying to melt the bottom of the parmesan cheese shaker on the dinner candle?”

  • “Am I really the only one in this house capable of changing the empty toilet paper roll?”

  • “Would someone please get me a roll of toilet paper from the closet upstairs?”

  • “Please? Come on, I’m stuck here!”

  • “Hello?”

You can tell a lot about a person’s life by the questions they ask.

It’s embarrassing, frankly.

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~ Operation Twizzler ~

For the last six months he’s been in training.  He’s met every challenge, every plate, every fork, resisted every desire to push away from the table.

Six months of “You can do it!”

Six months of “You are SO close!”

Six months of “Think ‘Sky Rush’ !”

For six months, Operation Twizzler has been in effect.

It’s mission:  To reach the required height of Twizzler status for Hershey Park so Critter can ride the big roller coasters, including the new SKY RUSH.

Every milestone towards it has been diligently recorded.  Every possible fatty food has been stocked and consumed.

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He hates eating.  Eating is an obstacle to everything he wants to be doing:  Playing.

How this came from my body, I have no idea.  The whole family is scratching their heads on this one.

Last weekend we went to Hershey for our annual Holiday Dinner and Musical at the Hershey Lodge.  We enjoyed the show, went to bed in the incredibly clean and cozy beds there, and then the next day, ran off to the park itself.

We were hoping he’d come close enough to attain it.  We were so sure he would not have to wait yet another season.

The moment we’d all been waiting for had come.  He took a breath.  Straightened his thin shoulders, puffed his hair up as high as it would go, and walked over to the measuring board:

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DOH!

SO Close!  SO STINKING CLOSE!!!

We all cringed!  HOW could this happen?!  How could God let this happen???!!

He took it in stride.  This boy who suffers daily in school at the hands of other 9 and 10-year-old, much larger, boys.  This boy who, though smart as a whip, funny as a clown, energetic as the Tasmanian Devil, and creative as Gallagher…this boy who constantly faces the derision of his peers for his diminutive stature.

As a mother, I want nothing more but for him to be happy, no matter WHAT his appearance.  But I know how the culture of growing boys in school is, and I know he suffers the brunt of it.  It’s made him Scrappy as all get out…which will probably serve him well in life, considering he has inherited his mother’s habit of blurting out exactly what is on her mind.

And all he wanted to do this day was be able to claim the title of “Twizzler.”

One day, Critter.

One day you will attain it.  If I have to break into Hershey and repaint that measuring board, as God as my witness, you WILL attain it.

If you need me, I’m off to the grocery store to buy more cheese, whole milk, and candy bars.  Operation Twizzler is still in effect.

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~ I’ll Tell You What It Isn’t! ~

WHAT in the name of all that is good and right and holy is this thing supposed to be???

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I have no idea.  But I’ll tell you one thing,

It sure as heck ain’t no cotton-pickin’ dagum Moose!  That is what is surely is NOT.

Unless it’s from Whoo-ville or something.

Look at his freakishly upside-down antlers.   Just look at them!  Were the costume designers on crack when they sewed this thing?

I don’t know much, I’ll give you that.  In fact, some people wonder how I manage to remember to walk and breathe at the same time.  But the one thing I DO know is Meeses.  And that thing is NOT one.

Nope.

No Sirreee.

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~ Last Chance ~

It would be the end of the world, as she knew it.

Nothing could divert the course of destiny at this point.  There would be no sudden game-changer now.

She had no choice but to accept the end.

But this last time…..this last time she could savor, remembering every last detail, every last emotion that went with it.

Oh but to be able to change the future!  To be able to turn things around.  What she wouldn’t do to be able to.

But there was no use to ponder it.  She couldn’t change the course of things.  She must accept the new reality, and learn to live on despite its shortcomings.

Life can be so hard.

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Her last Twinkie.

Note the reverence…..

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