Oh Tannenbaum you s.o.b.

It's no secret that I'm not exactly your classic "holiday person".  Once the kids are grown, the holidays just don't tickle my tootsies...or anything else for that matter.

This year the holiday began with a new tree....not a NEW new tree - a used one that my friend offered to us when she and her husband downsized. ( They still had three full sized trees left, I believe. She's all about the holidays)  The tree we received isn't your run of the mill faker...It definitely cost a sizable chunk of change way back when it was purchased. Prelit and all ready to go. Just fluff the branches and it will be Christmas. It came to us snugly ensconced in a rugged canvas bag with zippers and velcro and pull strings and hidden metal rings at the top and bottom carefully tucked inside the bag lining.  It was quite a bag. The bagged tree lived in a corner of our garage all summer and fall.  When December hit we decided that maybe we should look at this tree and see if it would work in our modest, middle class house.

How to get it in the house?  Realistically it would make the most sense to take it outside and then enter the house through the front door.  It would be the path of least resistance.  But we didn't do it that way, of course.  We chose to enter through the inner garage door that leads into our kitchen, hallway and family room (think "family room" 1970's style- no high ceilings).  In case you are not familiar with 1970's architecture (and I use that  term loosely) - it is based on the theory of "nothing is open and nothing is easily accessed".  Every room in my house is walled off from another and requires walking through hallways and making a series of twists and turns.( Are you jealous yet?)

The tree, we soon learned, was not only bulky, it was also heavy.  And while we could drag it to the door, lifting it and getting it inside proved a tough assignment for two 65+ year old slackers.  But we did it. A lot of yelling, "Watch it! Stop! You're stuck on something!" and "Fuck, this is hard!".  So we got it into the house.  The top of the tree lay on the floor just inside the door, the base rested on our kitchen floor.  In order to move it to the living room we would have to hoist it about four feet to clear a useless half wall that marks the entry to the kitchen.  More swearing. Once passed the kitchen, we next had to make a sharp left turn in the "foyer' (ahem) in order to get into the living room.  Furniture had to be moved.  And once again the tree had to be lifted high enough to clear the banister at the bottom of the stairs. We scratched two walls, gouged the edge of one step and, dripping in sweat, we finally reached the living room.  We dropped the tree to the floor and left it there....blocking this entry to the room, for three days.

On day four our goal was to remove the tree from the bag. I looked for the zipper.  There were several - but they didn't do much.  Opened a pocket here and there maybe.  I unvelcroed some straps. Didn't do much. I tugged on some strings and loosened them,.  I pulled at the bottom hidden ring to see if I could slip the canvas down.  All this was fruitless.  The logical, practical one long zipper that I needed did not exist.  Once again Bob and I tugged, coaxed and cajoled the canvas cover.  It yielded a few top branches. I removed the base.  That did nothing except make the tree unable to stand on its own. And - ta da - I realized that the bottom of the pole near the base was bent! (Did we do this? Who knows.) I broke down and called my friend. "How the hell do you get this tree out of the bag???"  She laughed.  Once she pulled herself together she admitted that unwrapping the tree was, to be sure, a miserable task.  "Be patient. You kind of have to wiggle it down.  And don't remove the canvas bag. It stays at the base and you cover it with your tree skirt "(Who the hell has a tree skirt? Not me  I do, however have nice black pencil skirt.)

Two hours and several mishaps later we freed the tree, reattached the stand (but first we tried to hammer the pole to straighten it. Um not happening) We spent 20 minutes propping the tree to make it look straight and then plugged it in.  The prelit tree had sections of dead lights, naturally.  We added two strands to the dark area, fluffed the branches (but not well) and declared the mission complete. Several days later I decorated it...and tried to fill in the unfluffed areas. It was ok. I don't enjoy decorating trees, (Sorry Christmas freaks) Persons entering our house were warned to NOT mention that the tree was crooked or they would be asked to leave.

In all the years we've had trees, no one has ever gone out of their way to complement one.  But oddly, this year, the Xmas eve family gathering was loaded with "That tree is so pretty."  "I like like that thing you did with feathers."  "Wow, nice tree."   With each complement I waited for a punchline that never came.  I guess it's a good thing to get everyone liquored up on Xmas eve....everything looks better when seen through a wine haze.

We are still debating what to do this week when we un-decorate.  Will we reuse the cursed canvas?  Should I go to Costco and buy industrial sized plastic wrap and try that instead?

And the big question?  How the hell are we going to get it back to the garage?  Bob suggested that we donate the tree to the trash guys.  He may have the best idea. I don't know how the trash guys will like it though.

A Target Moment

Trying to suck up to us because someone may have stolen Target customers' credit information this week - Target has begun a new customer service program.  I think.

Picture this:  Me, wandering thorough the aisles....touching, looking, picking up..a.blissed out "guest"...minding my own business...

When suddenly what to my wondering eyes should appear but the face of a Target associate....maybe a foot away from my face, ":Ma'am, are you finding everything okay?"  I mumbled something and walked away.  Exactly 3 minutes later...in another aisle....another face, "Ma'am  are you finding everything ok?"  (Hey - do I look lost...or feeble...is it this damn hair again?  Grey is a dull color but does not necessarily indicate a dull  mind)

I looked at her and softly said. "This is Target. I'm a woman. I come here at least once a week.  I really don't need help finding anything.i know where everything is.  This is TARGET and your concern would make sense in a Sports Authority.  I'm just fine on my own here. But thanks for asking.."


Bitch that I am.
I left.  Not my best moment

 But satisfying

The Thanksgiving Story....my version

This Thanksgiving I thought I'd do myself a favor and reduce the cooking load.  After all, I'm not Dolly Domestic and while I like having family around for dinner, it's not much fun to be chained to the kitchen for ten hours, or  to sit down late (after everything is cold) and to eat things you've been sampling all day.  Cooking for the holidays is a punishment.

This year I ordered a prepared "Holiday Meal for a Family of 6 - 8 People" from my local grocery store. That's what the brochure said anyway.  This was to include dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry compote and some kind of raspberry cobbler, and, of course a 10-12 pound turkey. Cooked. All I had to do was return it to the oven for 2 hours to warm it up.  I envisioned a day of leisure. I would prepare a salad, maybe a few appetizers...not a lot. Someone else was bringing pies. Bliss.

The week before the holiday a little voice in my head suggested buying a turkey breast - just in case the prepared turkey wasn't big enough to feed everyone.  It would also ensure that we had leftovers.  Cause everyone eats turkey sammies on Thanksgiving night. So I bought one. ( Word of advice: Always listen to the voice in your head. )

Two days before Thanksgiving I crawled to the store (this was 2 days after a trip to the ER for stomach pain) and bought everything I'd need for salad, appetizers and so on.  While walking though the store the little voice returned and suggested maybe buying some potatoes in case we didn't get enough in our "prepared meal"....and while I was at it, maybe break down and buy some extra gravy "just in case".  As I neared the checkout line the little voice once again whispered a suggestion...."dressing" it said.  What if there wasn't enough?  I bought a bag, some sausage, apples and broth. We'd have two kinds of stuffing I guess.

The day before Thanksgiving I picked up the "prepared dinner". The first thing I encountered was an elaborate schedule, colorfully assembled to make my prep simple and flawless. At this hour you unwrap the turkey, at this hour you pop this container in the microwave etc.  Very nice. Very neat. Very organized. Inside the box were many black containers of sides - ready to line up for their appointed time the microwave or the oven. The problem was that absolutely none of these containers would feed 6-8 people in my family.  In fact, I question whether any family of more than 3 (including a toddler) would be sufficiently sated with these sides. So, a family of 6-8 what? Little people? Munchkins? Anorexics?  There wasn't enough gravy to cover two mounds of mashed potatoes.  The green bean casserole could be doled out in 6 melon ball scoops and it would be gone.  You get the picture.

In the end I spent ten hours chained to the stove making mashed potatoes, dressing, green bean casserole, a turkey breast, salad and appetizers.  My food went first...the prepared stuff didn't interest too many people. (Except the turkey - their turkey was good) Most of the sides got thrown out two days later.  I sat down when most were on their second helpings and beginning to groan.  My restricted diet allowed me a chunk of white meat (from the breast I cooked) and some potatoes and gravy. I took a few bites. Not hungry.

This wasn't the bliss I had envisioned for myself.....but everyone else looked mighty blissful and bloated.

Next year I'm making reservations.

Been gone so long...

Until recently I truly believed that I had some control over the state of my body. Good eating. Moderate exercise (albeit irregular), regular check ups...I'm.like a car I want to keep driving for a long time. My friend - who does not take very good care of herself (she takes better care of her car)-  did some research on doing all the right things to stay healthy and concluded that by doing everything right we gain about 3 months. In the end turning down that brownie or that hot crusty French bread may not be worth the sacrifice.  I think I'd rather die with brownie crumbs and frosting on my lips than kale and quinoa.  In fact - I'd rather be dead than eat either one of those things. But I digress.

I have had a six month battle with lady-part issues that all stemmed from that one fateful visit to the female gynecologist who found the "bump". Then the subsequent surgery and mini-remodel. The discovery of HPV hiding in my body and the news that most people have it but don't know it,  How comforting. (See blog entry entitled "the new adventures of old Mandy" if you want the details. )  Late this summer, still not feeling fully right and still having problems, I also discovered an outbreak of  - are you ready for this (cause I wasn't) Herpes.  WTF?  I've never ever ever had an outbreak of anything transmittable 65 years.  I almost fell off the exam table. What? How? God knows I've been good for 19 years (for once in my life).Not even a cold sore. Ever.  My first thought was my husband had a bit of 'splainin to do...but the doctor said I could have been there sleeping for twenty or thirty years. Something just woke it up.  Maybe the surgery.  I would never know, he told me. (Yea but I WANT to know) Took some supressant drugs and it went back to sleep. For now.

Recently I had a run-in with genes. My mom's to be exact.  Right before Thanksgiving I experienced my first full blown - go to the ER attack of diverticulitis. I'm still  recovering. For the record,  I don't recommend this condition. Nor do I know how to avoid having it happen again because they really have no freaking idea why it happens but it happens mostly to older people (yeah, that'd be me) and may be preventable with a high fiber diet - which I normally eat.  So much for good car care.  Ironically the diet they put you on to heal is the white bread diet. White bread, white pasta, no raw or fibrous veggies or fruits (except canned), no nuts, seeds or beans.  Lots of bananas, mashed potatoes, chicken noodle soup and jello.

 I don't think that gastroenterology is a exact science.