Jingle Bell-o-rama

Best Quote I Heard All Day

Christmas to a child is the first terrible proof that to travel hopefully is better than to arrive.--Stephen Fry


I was just thinking the other day about the incredible Christmases I had as a child.


Picture this: Grandparents, who buy all of your toys at FAO Schwarz, show up on Christmas Day with an endless parade of presents. A veritable plethora of packages. My brother Rich and I had combed through the the FAO catalog (which my mother always tried to hide from us, quite unsuccessfully) and made up our equally endless lists for Santa.


You know, my dears, that Santa did all of his finest work at FAO.

However, our toy language consisted of Mattel, Remco, Marx, Topper, Kenner, Ideal, Wham-O. These companies were the gold standard, although I never quite caught the major disconnect between them and Santa's workshop.

My greatest desire when I was 8, was the Remco Firebird dashboard. No, not dolls. Not little teasets. No girly shit. I wanted that fucking dashboard so badly that I would have sold my little 2nd grade soul for it.

Yes, it is the 1958 Firebird 99. It had an ignition key, the horn beeped and the wiper blades worked, ran on batteries.

So on Christmas Day, 1958, I became the proud owner of my first car, as it were. I loved that toy more than anything else I got, which is why I remember it so well. I don't recall experiencing that kind of want again.

And yes, I did own a Daisy Air Rifle, which I also got when I was 8, either for my birthday or for Christmas. God knows why, because my mother was ever the proponent of that fine maxim, "You'll show your eye out." Somehow, I think Daddy may have overridden her vote on that one.

Rich, of course, loved monsters. I'm almost sure he owned the Great Garloo. I'll have to ask him tomorrow.

This toy orgy occurred well before my sister was born in 1962, although I think she does remember some of the Oma and Opa largesse.

These days, I think that the Schacht Ladybug comes close to the Firebird dashboard, in a way. But no adult emotion equals the pure greed of an 8-year-old toy-hungry child with a rapacious appetite.

Do you remember a toy that you wanted so badly you would have eaten dirt to get it? Dirt with worms, of course.

Tomorrow, when we all get together--Rich, Mom, Karen, and me--I know the talk will turn to those magical Christmases. Only we can relate to those times. However, I know Jenn will recall her drool fest over the remote-controlled R2D2. She was nine years old when it came out in 1978 and she wanted that as I had wanted my Firebird.

Did she get it? You bet. Even though Mommy and Daddy had to drive all over fucking New Jersey to find one, since it was the hot toy that year.

It's time for me to get my act together, finish wrapping presents, and then scurry down to North Arlington, NJ to spend Christmas Eve at Jerry's sister Pat's house. Tomorrow, we'll head up to Wharton for Christmas dinner with my family. This will be Jerry's first time meeting them. I'm sure he'll be just fine. He can more than hold his own with anyone, especially me. I've finally found my match.

May you all have a wonderful Christmas or Hannukah, Winter Solstice, Kwaanza, or whatever the fuck you celebrate. No matter what, this is the rarest and handiest season I know, if you make it that way. I just wish the weather would make up its mind. I've had it with snow--ya know what I mean?

Merry Christmas, Baby

Best Quote I Heard All Day
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live--George Carlin

I know, I used this quote before, on a Christmas entry past. But it's particularly apropos this year. I've been a very bad girl. In a very good way. Use your imagination.

Long time, no post. I've been insane with work...and Neal. A week in Tampa too, stuck there an extra two days because of the storm that hit the Northeast last week and canceled my flight.


Not that I was really complaining with a view like this from the hotel terrace where I had my morning coffee and got done what little knitting I could manage. The ubiquitous socks.

Welcome to my real work world. My ecstatic trainees, waiting for me to put the camera down and start training them in the fabulousness of our mobile asset management system.


Now it's done and I have some peace. The peace I get in E'burg. The final move will be New Year's weekend. But first, I do my Christmas dinner for the troops. And start a two-week vacation that is needed badly, although most of it will entail buggylugging shit up to the apartment.

However, Neal has made sure that our network is now completely wired. We pulled cable last weekend and I'm ready to go live as soon as the desktop gets moved up. As he says, "I'm the nerd, you're the geek." So true. He's the hardware magician, I'm the apps pro, although you'd be amazed watching me help him pull cables on his job the other Saturday. Untangling cables is very much like yarn messes. I don't know that I would want to do what he does, which is set up complicated multi-media systems. But I get him, completely. And he gets me. So there you have it. That's why you've not heard from me.

But life seems to be returning to normal, whatever the fuck that is.

So, my dears, I will probably have a lot more to post soon. Right now, I'm about to pick up the Lavold sweater that has been languishing in its bag and get it finished. One spinning wheel is in E'burg, the next is about to follow. And the loom is going too. I'm going to keep it.

Have a wonderful Christmas, you skanks. And this song, by my favorite Jersey boy, is for everyone and especially for my nerd, who is one rare and handy man. I'm blessed.