Tuesday, December 16, 2008
I'm Dreaming of a GAPWIT Christmas
Redneck Christmas TreeThis is one of those things that fly around the email circuit. I condensed it and made a composite picture.
It reminds me of the Christmas Ladder. Dale Hartman and I had just moved to a new town, with no furniture, and our landlord left this item in the house for a while to help us get the place together. It worked fine as a seasonal decoration, too.
Making it Go AwayI knew a guy who, one year, had such an aversion to Christmas that he flew to Australia, crossing the International Date Line in such a way that, for him, there was no December 25th.
The Politically Correct Days of Christmas
This arrived in my email box last year, and I like it:On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my Significant Other in a consenting adult, monogamous relationship gave to me:
TWELVE males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming,
ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union contract even though they will not be asked to play a note),
TEN melanin deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping, NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression,
EIGHT economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk-products from enslaved Bovine-Americans,
SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands,
SIX enslaved Fowl-Americans producing stolen non-human animal products,
FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration, (NOTE: after members of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further Animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised.)
FOUR hours of recorded whale songs
THREE deconstructionist poets
TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses and...
ONE Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree.
Merry Christmas Happy Chanukah. Good Kwanzaa. Blessed Yule. Oh, heck! Happy Holidays!!!! (unless otherwise prohibited by law)
*Unless, of course, you are suffering from Seasonally Affected Disorder (SAD). If this be the case, please substitute this gratuitous call for celebration with suggestion that you have a completely adequate day.
Another email thing: "Encounter"
And another: "Let me know your sizes - Christmas is tight this year."
How to make bedroom slippers out of maxi pads:
You need four maxis to make a pair. Two of them get laid out flat, for the foot part. The other two wrap around the toe area to form the top. Tape or glue each side of the top pieces to the bottom of the foot part. Decorate the tops with whatever you desire, silk flowers, etc. These slippers are
*Soft and Hygienic
*Non-slip grip strips on the soles
*Built in deodorant feature keeps feet smelling fresh
*No more bending over to mop up spills
*Disposable and biodegradable
*Three convenient sizes: Regular, Light day, and Get out the Sand Bags.
And some personal ones: a picture/song my daughter made when she was a kid.
Great-Grandpa's White Fruitcake Recipe
In this wicked world, fruitcake gets no respect. I've heard all the jokes about how the same gnarly fruitcake gets passed around from one person to the next, year after year. And its innocent name is a synonym for an unfortunate individual who is a few bricks shy of a load.
In Boulder they even have an annual Fruitcake Toss, with three weight classes and choice of propellant: physically hurl the poor fruitcake with your very own pitching arm; or use a throwing device of your own invention and construction; or load it into the Pneumatic Spud Gun; or utilize the committee's catapult. It's an event guaranteed to bring out the yokel in the local college students. This is sacrilege.
The past couple of years, because the candied fruit was half-price the day after Christmas, I made a huge batch of Great-Grandpa's White Fruitcake in the spring. We're not talking about commercial-grade fruitcake packed with mystery ingredients and horrid little hard things. What we're dealing with here is an old family recipe, one that originally resulted in a huge vat of batter - this was a professional baker, after all. Even the fractioned-down version makes quite a lot. And just between us, the whole process, from individually inspecting the raisins for stems, to testing for doneness, is pretty much a pain in the ass.
Yet and still, I feel that Great-Grandpa's recipe could rehabilitate the reputation of fruitcake overnight and take the nation by storm, the way Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies once did. Venture capitalists, call me!
What I take to holiday parties:
Nutritionally suspect, but so delicious! Cherry Fluff reads kind of yucky, but there's a synergy that happens and mmmmm! It's a darn good thing the holidays only come around once a year, or I would weigh 500 lbs.
1 carton (8 oz.) of frozen whipped topping, thawed
1 can (20 oz.) of crushed pineapple, drained
1 can (21 oz.) of cherry pie filling
1 can (14 oz.) of sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup of flaked coconut
1/2 cup of chopped pecans
In a big bowl, mix them all together thoroughly. Cover and
chill overnight. Keep it cold until you eat it.
Another family tradition, a thing my mother and grandmother occasionally made as a very special Christmas gift, is the TM Pie. Using a small disposable pie tin, you make a bottom crust and then fill the pie with crumpled tin foil to hold the lid up. Then fit a top crust over it, crimping them together. And don't forget to poke a fork through the surface, to let the steam out. After it's baked and cooled, take the top crust off and remove the padding. Inside, place a crisp new unit of currency. Put the lid back on, carefully place in a box, and tie a ribbon around it. There's also a poem that goes with it, that I can't find, but it explains that this is a 'Tis Money Pie.
Most Enchanting Christmas Memory
It was a large but non-alcoholic and non-noisy party, sponsored by the workplace. Spouses were invited, and in some cases it was the only time they were seen all year. There was a guy everybody liked who brought his wife, a troubled woman who was frankly kind of problematic to relate to. And it was known to be a troubled marriage. They had a reason to leave early, but just before they reached the door, she turned around and said, "I want to sing a song for you." With no accompaniment she sang "O Holy Night" and it was pure magic. Absolutely splendid. And then they left.
And my all-time favorite amongst those things that circulate around the Web: the all-purpose greeting card