Merry Christmas to me!
Ho, ho, ho, and all that jolly old elf stuff.
An empty house is not a happy place, in and of itself. No, it takes a family to make that house a home, to fill all the nooks and crannies with Christmas joy. For me, my family is what makes my house the happiest place on earth. Even happier than Disneyland.
And they're all here. At home. At least for one night.
Everyone is talking and laughing. The grandkids are running around, laughing, and eating, with the dogs eating what the kids drop on the floor. All of this is what makes life worth living.
As some of us get older, some of us get smarter. Don't sweat the small stuff, because it's all small stuff. And, while you're at it, don't sweat the big stuff either.
When I ask some people how they're doing, not that I really care, some will respond with a big sigh.
"Oh, I take it one day at a time," they'll tell me. "One day at a time."
Heck, isn't that what we all do?
My Dad once asked me, "Do you know how the world champion potato peeler won the world championship?"
What did I know, I was just a dumb kid at the time.
"By peeling one potato at a time," he answered.
So, I've taught myself how to live one day at a time. I can plan for tomorrow, but when it comes to living...
...I live for today. Which brings us to...
And they're all here. At home. At least for one night.
Everyone is talking and laughing. The grandkids are running around, laughing, and eating, with the dogs eating what the kids drop on the floor. All of this is what makes life worth living.
As some of us get older, some of us get smarter. Don't sweat the small stuff, because it's all small stuff. And, while you're at it, don't sweat the big stuff either.
When I ask some people how they're doing, not that I really care, some will respond with a big sigh.
"Oh, I take it one day at a time," they'll tell me. "One day at a time."
Heck, isn't that what we all do?
My Dad once asked me, "Do you know how the world champion potato peeler won the world championship?"
What did I know, I was just a dumb kid at the time.
"By peeling one potato at a time," he answered.
So, I've taught myself how to live one day at a time. I can plan for tomorrow, but when it comes to living...
...I live for today. Which brings us to...
Christmas Eve and it's time to eat. My wife has put out a spread that would feed a Weight Watchers convention, and still have enough left over for Jenny Craig.
My wife serves my Dad a plate that could feed eight Rosie O'Donnells, with, maybe, a Rosanne thrown in to clean up the scraps. That plate of food would have cost my Dad over a hundred bucks at any restaurant owned by a celebrity chef.. To make a long story short, my Dad puts it away faster than Monica Lewinski at a Dunkin Donuts. And that's after telling my wife that she served him too much.
"You always serve me too much," he says, and then is nothing but a blur of silverware for the next half-hour. I once got too close to my Dad when he was chowing down one of my wife's holiday feasts, and the sparks from his knife and fork blinded me for three days. Those three days were the only time I was able to sit and watch baseball with him.
"You always serve me too much," he says, and then is nothing but a blur of silverware for the next half-hour. I once got too close to my Dad when he was chowing down one of my wife's holiday feasts, and the sparks from his knife and fork blinded me for three days. Those three days were the only time I was able to sit and watch baseball with him.
After he's done, my wife heats some peppermint tea and places it on the little table next to my favorite chair. A chair my Dad quickly sits in. It's his favorite chair, too, you see. Then she asked him the Big Question. The question I've been waiting since yesterday for her to ask. She asks, "Are you ready for your pumpkin pie?"
"Ahhh... hmmm... well..." my Dad says.
"I also bought some whipped cream."
"Ahhh... hmmm... well..." my Dad says.
"I also bought some whipped cream."
"Weeell, hee hee hee..." Click, click, click! Smack, smack, smack! "Ahhh..."
My wife waits for his answer patiently. She's married to me, so she's learned patience.
"A small slice?" she helpfully encourages him. "Maybe without the whipped cream."
"Hee, hee, hee..." he hee-hee-hees.
My wife is starting to read the writing on the wall. Myself, I read it in yesterday's newspaper.
My wife waits for his answer patiently. She's married to me, so she's learned patience.
"A small slice?" she helpfully encourages him. "Maybe without the whipped cream."
"Hee, hee, hee..." he hee-hee-hees.
My wife is starting to read the writing on the wall. Myself, I read it in yesterday's newspaper.
"Are you too full?" she asks him finally, giving him an honorable way out. Like Nixon in Viet Nam.
"Wellllll... hmmm... ahhhh..."
I know exactly what's coming. Exactly.
"Ahhh, yeah... I'm pretty full," he tells her. "You always serve me too much."
I'm sure I don't have to point this out to you, but while my wife does the serving, it's my Dad who does the eating.
My Dad shakes his head.
"Yeah, I'm just too full," he kind of, but not really, apologizes. "Hoo-boy, yeah... too full."
"Okay, Dad," she tells him.
My wife pretends she's not, but I can see her looking at me from the corner of her eye. As she starts her walk of shame back to the kitchen, my dad stops her.
"Is there any fudge?"
What can I say? Now we have 10 pounds of pumpkin pie we didn't want.
"Ahhh, yeah... I'm pretty full," he tells her. "You always serve me too much."
I'm sure I don't have to point this out to you, but while my wife does the serving, it's my Dad who does the eating.
My Dad shakes his head.
"Yeah, I'm just too full," he kind of, but not really, apologizes. "Hoo-boy, yeah... too full."
"Okay, Dad," she tells him.
My wife pretends she's not, but I can see her looking at me from the corner of her eye. As she starts her walk of shame back to the kitchen, my dad stops her.
"Is there any fudge?"
What can I say? Now we have 10 pounds of pumpkin pie we didn't want.
If I could send it via Federal Express to my brother I would, but with Federal Express being so tardy delivering everybody's Christmas gifts... I guess I'll keep it.
Two days later, my Dad still hasn't even touched the pie.
Merry Christmas to me, indeed.
Raising My Father
RaisingMyFather.BlogSpot.com
jimduchene.BlogSpot.com Fifty Shades of Funny
@JimDuchene
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