Christmas Memories

I realized this might be a repeat from last year, some of it anyway, but it's my blog and I get to repeat stuff if I want, so here goes.  As tiny little kids, my siblings and I hid in our shared bathroom on Christmas Eve squatting on the rug, as my brother told us he'd just seen Santa's shadow on the wall, in the den.  More like my Dad, but whatever.  As I remember, we each had a Hershey bar, and ate them square by square, scared to death Santa would catch us.  I was a whopping three or four years old.

I vividly remember the Christmas when my brother and I both got Strep throat and were sick as two dogs.  Mom was sooo frustrated that on the 23rd, she loaded us both into her station wagon, in our pj's, and took us to our pediatrician, for a big old repeat harpoon of penicillin, in our respective behinds.  Wow....big fun.  Nothing says Christmas like Strep.

Then I remember the year one of our less than intelligent maids put an entire foil wrapped log of Canadian bacon under our tree, that a neighbor had delivered.  It even had a red bow around it, as I remember.  The next thing we knew, my  then black and tan girl dachshund, Liebe, inflated like the Hindenburg.   Foil was everywhere, and she was one very thirsty dog.  My parents had to call the neighbor to find out what they'd given us, so they could tell our Vet.  We didn't know what in the world she'd eaten and the maid sure didn't know.  My parents didn't feed that damn dog for a week, and I still remember how hard my parents laughed.  Liebe was a clone of Sis.  And just as big a pig.

I also remember the year I tried to re-hang an ornament on our tree, when no one else was around, lost my balance standing on a chair, and fell.... on... the... tree.  Hey, I was just trying to help.....and I was little.  That was back in the day when all the ornaments shattered like glass, cause they probably were, and flew everywhere.  I didn't even have to admit it was me---everybody already knew.

I remember the red felt Christmas stockings mom made us....OK, somebody made us--- and now that I think about it, it probably wasn't mom.  I remember a white reindeer on mine with sequin's for eyes and a green wreath thing around his neck, and the stocking had a white felt cuff.  Back in the 50's, I think everyone had a red felt stocking ....it was the law back then.

I also vividly remember the year I wanted a ring for Christmas and my mom picked one out for me, and I hated it.  I tried to cover but she knew, and got mad.  Well, hell.  Whadya gonna do?  I was grateful I got a ring---just not that one.  I remember her taking me to exchange it and let me just tell ya, that wasn't pretty either.  After Christmas, there ain't nuttin' left you'd want since every thing's been picked over, so as I remember, I ended up keeping that ugly ass ring, and that made her even madder.  The funny part is, she's even pickier than I am, especially about jewelry.  I'm not sure what ever happened to that ring, and I don't much care.  I can still see it perfectly in my mind's eye, and it's still ugly.

Lastly, I remember eating smoked salmon, with my parents, in the kitchen of our house that was dozed earlier this year.  Someone sent wild smoked Alaskan salmon to my parent's every year, and it was the real deal--none of that farm raised nonsense-- and it was incredible.  Hence began my love affair with good smoked salmon, on toast points or a good cracker, with a tiny dollop of diced onions, a little squeeze of lemon, a few capers, and a small dollop of sour cream.  Food for the God's.