The
leaves are gone, the skies are cold and gray, and the Sunday paper is eighteen
inches thick. Must mean it’s time for the
pagan celebration of Sol Invictus once again.
Oh – and Christmas.
Except
for Hawks winning the Cup, the Bears hiring a new head coach then firing their
defense, and the Illini proving themselves worthy of a berth in the high school
badminton playoffs, 2013 will go down as the most uninspiring and uninteresting
year in recent history.
This
will be our first Christmas without Don.
Not one to fall prey to maudlin sentimentality, Don was never a willing
participant in the holidays, but more a victim of the season’s unreasonable
expectations of joy, peace on earth, and goodwill toward men. In an ironic Dickensian twist, the La-Z-Boy in
front of the fireplace will be without its usual occupant this year – his one
eye trained on a football game, the other feigning interest in the children
opening gifts, and the other asleep – as a roaring fire fills the house with
smoke. Never again will he regale us
with his very special version of Here Comes Fatty with His Sack of [Excrement],
nor remind us that the true meaning of Christmas is humbug. And who to tell and retell the same off-color
jokes, over-mix the drinks, or snore through dessert? In spite of himself, he will be missed. (For
more on Don, visit thelaynebrain.blogspot.com.)
In an
example of life imitating 1970’s network television, Amanda and Allyson have evolved
into the Odd Couple. Amanda (aka Felix) is
convinced she contracted the flu, typhoid fever, and polio, along with one as
yet undiscovered disease this year, the symptoms of which include itchy scalp, a
foul temper, and pronounced narcissism.
Conversely, Allyson (aka Oscar) is altogether unconcerned with both
domestic and personal hygiene, leaving in her wake a trail of grime and
chocolate that keeps Karen following close behind with a sponge and 55 gallon
drum of Pine-Sol.
Now a
fully armed and operational teenager, Amanda continues to both impress and
irritate in equal measure. What she
lacks in good sense she makes up for in volume and hysteria, preferring to
communicate only via text and shouting. She
has been working hard at her three dance classes – which she practices nonstop
while doing homework, during meals, and while sleeping – but also at spending
all of her parents money on boots she refuses to wear, opting to walk barefoot
between indoor venues lest they become soiled.
Her straight A’s almost make up for the fact she’s late for everything,
and we are all looking forward to high school next year where she’ll have new
people to yell at.
According
to her coaches, Ally is to fastpitch what “chopped” is to “liver.” Having now transitioned to travel ball, Allyson
intends to be the first pitcher ever to play Division I softball without first
attending middle school. Likewise, nephew
Jayson is again the talk of his Pee Wee football team, no doubt because he is larger
than all of the varsity players on the local Hoover HS team and many of the Auburn
University offensive linemen.
The clan
crammed into the car and traveled south this summer visiting the Carolinas and
Savannah, GA. Moved by lessons of the
Civil War, Amanda and Allyson spent most of the trip fighting over issues on
which they both agree. Inspired by their
visit to the Biltmore Estate, the girls formed new opinions of how a modern middle
class suburban family should live, leaving Karen to contemplate which of the
seven rooms in her home she might convert into a library, solarium, and stables.
The family devoted one full day in Charleston
to touring the USS Yorktown. Initially disappointed
to discover Yorktown wasn’t a shopping mall, Amanda and Ally wound up enjoying themselves,
marking the first time they willingly spent an entire day inside a place of any
historical significance that didn’t feature a shoe store or food court. And yes, Paula Deen does fry everything she
serves at her restaurant in butter, including muffins, pizza, and coleslaw.
Upon
turning 50, Karen intensified clearing the clutter from her life to the point the
family is convinced she’s accepting bribes from the local waste hauler. It’s degenerated to where if you can’t find
something important, look in the trash.
Thank goodness for the Apple Find My Phone app. No one has seen Mark in weeks.
Taffy
continues to challenge the neighborhood skunk population to regular duels. Skunks 4; Taffy 0.
To say
Mark has enjoyed his new career choice would be an insult to joy. Of course the insurance has proved beneficial
to pay for his broken finger, rebuilt shoulder, and breast implants.
If nothing
else, Christmas provides a much anticipated interruption in the humdrum drudgery
of daily existence. As Johann Wolfgang
von Goethe noted, “A man can stand anything except a succession of ordinary
days.”
Merry
Christmas to All, and to All Good Grief,
Karen,
Mark, Amanda, Ally, and Taffy
