Happy Holidays

During high school I worked at the happening new mall downtown.  It was my part-time job and I loved being there during the holidays.  All that piped-in cheer and those colorful twinkling lights filled me with energy and always put me in a magical mood.  One evening I was singing along to the Christmas Muzak, folding sweaters, when I heard what sounded like a giant pumpkin splattering outside and then people screaming.  Someone had jumped off the top floor of the three-story building.  What went through the head of that poor soul before he aimed it at a bunch of shoppers?

I now avoid all malls between Black Friday and New Year’s Day.  Not because of the crazy man who decided to end it all on my shift, but because I can no longer stand the tense people and what now seems like false cheer.  When we lived in San Francisco I had a young woman curse and scream at me in a parking garage a few days before Christmas.  I am pretty sure it was over the space she thought I stole from her, but I cannot be certain since I didn’t see her until she almost ran me over with her Volvo that had a “Peace Now” bumper sticker on it.

Not that I am immune to melt downs this time of year.  The Professor knows he has to intervene when I start yelling things at him like, “Fuck the Christmas cards!” or, “I’ve decided we are going to work at a soup kitchen this Thanksgiving instead of sitting around stuffing our faces like a bunch of mindless pigs!”  Never mind the Christmas Eves he has found me by the tree at three in the morning, wrapping gifts, eating cookies left for Santa and crying about something that happened the previous April.

After many years of trial and error, I can honestly say I look forward to our year-end festivities.  I have learned to scale back and pace myself as much for my husband's sanity as my own.  It's one thing for a Jewish man to tolerate a Christmas tree in his living room, it's quite another for me to turn our house into a Waspy Wonderland.  He had to make up a rule that I cannot play Christmas carols until after Thanksgiving.  I like how we do just a little of everything...from lighting candles for Hanukkah to hanging stockings by the fire.

Some years I am the one telling my friends about the lunatic I encountered at the school holiday program, but okay, I'll confess, other years I am the one who needs to put the hot glue gun down and step away from the elf parade.  I know I am in an okay place when I can hear the Professor whistling the tune, "Sleigh bells ring, are you listening..." in the shower well into December.

The People of the State of New York vs. Lisa Barnhouse

Without sounding overly defensive, I’d like to state my case.

I was pulled over for going 85mph in a 65 zone.  Twice.  Within the same hour.  On the same interstate.  I found out the hard way that a) the odds do not work in your favor on the 88; b) the sight of flashing lights in my rear view mirror induces inexplicable terror; and c) my children can repeat verbatim every conversation they witness their mother having.

I took the first one like a caught rabbit and didn’t even blink.  As if somehow being cooperative and quiet would get me out of my fate.  But the second time I remembered all the tips on defense when you’re being attacked.  Fight like hell and whatever you do, don’t drive away with the offender.  Yes, I know I am taking liberties and that I was, in fact, the alleged offender here.  I begged and pleaded and showed the Officer my first ticket.  As if somehow he would think, “Oh, that poor white woman, trying to make it all the way to Massachusetts in the rain with her children, late for a dinner with her in-laws at their summer home.  Really, who can blame her for pushing her luck?”

The Professor was sympathetic and very helpful.  As were his mom and dad.  They were offering to hire attorneys, make calls, contact friends, all on my behalf.  This is not how it would have gone down at my parents’ house.  I can hear it now, “What the hell is your problem?  Are you insane? Don’t you know if you get three tickets inside of 18 months you get your license suspended?  Have fun walking to the grocery store!”

I ended up hiring an attorney to get the two tickets reduced to non-moving violations.  The worst part was feeling like I was somehow cheating the system.  Especially when I explained my plea bargains to my mom.

“Must be nice.  Buying your way out of consequences for something you did.”

Actually, it ended up costing the same.  With a little research, anyone can find out that if you send a letter with a copy of your clean driving record to the D.A. of the county where you got the ticket, they will consider reducing the charges.  They just want the fine money.

While I am still disgusted with myself the most, I can't help being mad at the People of the State of New York for hiding state troopers in the bushes up and down their Interstate.  Serious entrapment issues are another story, but I am happy to report that the courts aren’t completely Machiavellian.

Lucky I'm sane after all I've been through
(Everybody sing) I'm cool...[She's] cool

I can't complain but sometimes I still do
Life's been good to me so far

Counter Assault Team

I think First Born Prince was 3-years-old the first time he figured out I would let him down as a guardian of his fine mind and perfect health.  He came home from a play date at his best friend, Alec’s house.  His tone was indignant.

“Mom!  Why did you let me eat junk?”

“What junk?”

“M&Ms!  Alec’s mom says they are junk!  Why would you let me eat them?”

Where to begin, little man.

It was a great reminder that he depends on me to take all the hits for him.  I hate being the master of “no” and giver of whole grain.  Sometimes I wish I did have a wire earpiece rigged to a team.  I could blame it all on the other end of the radio headset.  “Sorry, Charlie, I would let you watch that R-rated movie, but headquarters says, ‘Too violent.’  Sorry.”  “Me?  Of course I think it would be fun to stay up late!  But the director is all over me from now through Christmas.”