Stuff my kids say #1

Dirty Larry comes out in his nearly floor length black leather coat.

Pateriko: Dad, you look like Morpheus.
Dirty Larry: Why can't I be Neo?
Litkia: Morpheus is cool. Neo is a whiney-butt.

That's not right.

My friend and I went to dinner the other night and when we returned home, she noticed a large Styrofoam package under the tree that wasn't there when we left. Apparently, a delivery was made while we were gone. I picked it up and realized that it was the steaks that my sister sent to Dirty Larry for his Christmas present. Now, Dirty Larry couldn't have known that there were steaks inside the package, but it WAS labeled in big red letters "HIGHLY PERISHABLE - REFRIGERATE IMMEDIATELY". I asked him what part of high perishable made him want to put it under the tree, but he didn't answer me.

I went ahead and opened the box. I feel like the packaging might have cost more than the meat inside. What a fancy, huge Styrofoam box! My friend immediately asked what I was going to do with it and I told her I was tossing it. She was indignant and begged to take it home with her, which I certainly didn't mind. I have no idea what she'll do with it, but it seemed very important to her that it NOT be thrown away. Also inside this box was a bag of dry ice, the obvious source of refrigeration for shipping. I put the bag into the sink and noticed the words "DO NOT TOUCH! CAN CAUSE BURNS!" I left the kitchen after that, but later realized that Dirty Larry and Litkia hadn't followed me out. I kept hearing them giggling and laughing in there and I finally couldn't stand it anymore and went to see what was so funny. They were poking holes in the bag and adding water, making smoke and watching it boil away. THERE'S a great parenting picture for you. When I walked in, they were both smiling and laughing until they looked up and saw me. Dirty Larry sheepishly said, "Look! The whole kitchen is full of smoke!" I ordered them out.

I have no idea what these steaks are going to taste like but I'll have you know that the gift was MUCH more than the steaks. Even the packaging brought Christmas joy to all and nobody was injured. It's a Christmas miracle.

Perhaps a bell this time?

I am a fan of being creative. I love to MAKE stuff. I like to sew, embroider, needlepoint and crochet. I like painting and drawing although I'm not so talented in those areas. I like using my hands to produce something and then looking at it later and saying, "I did that. I must be very smart." Or even better, showing YOU what I did and letting YOU say, "You did that? You are very smart!"

I believe I got this illness from my mother. She was always sewing something or making a huge embroidered wall hanging full of color and crazy chain stitches and whipped stitches and french knots. And for Christmas, my sisters and I always got something under the tree that was crafty. Almost always, we got a beaded doll kit. Those dolls lined a shelf in the den with their chenille pipe cleaner arms and their sequined, beaded dresses and increased in number by the year. If it wasn't that, it was a loom on which to weave potholders or a kit to make jewelry or pom-pom animals with little googly eyes.

I'm foggy about the exact year, but I think I was about 7 years old when my mother did something new and different. She made a stained glass candle holder, only it wasn't glass, it was made of tiny, melted, clear, colored, plastic pellets of some kind. I will never forget the smell, but likewise, I will never forget the resulting product. It was the shape of a cathedral window and the picture that she formed in the window was Mary, kneeling. The air around her head was a clear midnight blue and the cloth on her head was white. The dress she was wearing was the most amazing color of blue I have ever had the pleasure to drink in with my eyes. The candle was placed behind the window so the light shining through made it even more amazing to look at. I loved that thing with all my heart and I would watch that candle flicker behind the mother of Jesus as long as I was allowed. I don't remember the year it was retired from our Christmas decorating, but I do remember that it was broken and I was so sad when I saw it tossed into the garbage as if it was old and dirty and not made of pure unadulterated goodness and light like I knew to be so.

About 13 years ago, I was in an antique store and I came across an iron, stained glass Christmas tree candle holder. Although it was mostly all wrong in appearance, it tugged strongly at my heartstrings and I had to buy it. It was a symbol of something I had long ago lost. I was very excited and it held an important place in my Christmas decorating. Two years later, I had a garage sale. My neighbor asked if she could place some things in my sale and I told her that she was welcome. She came over with a pile of stuff and amongst it was an iron, stained glass wreath that was absolutely the brother of my tree. I bought her trash and made it my treasure.

Since then, I have acquired four other relatives of the tree, including the tree's twin brother. You may find this to be excessive. It may be. But dear gussy, it makes me happy. And don't think for a second that when I saw another vintage, 1970, iron, stained glass candle holder on eBay this afternoon, I didn't bid immediately. I know Mary Poppins says that enough is as good as a feast, but I tend more toward the more the merrier.