"He STUCK his HEAD under the GARAGE DOOR!"
Saturday, November 27, 2004
It was on the cold morning of November 27th, that OLeif and Collette did a little shopping for their first Christmas. After a swift breakfast of fried eggs and cheese on biscuits, they ventured out into the crowds. And they came away with several prizes – an old-fashioned carnival popcorn popper to round out the stack of gifts for Collette’s family, a gift card to Olive Garden for Laurel Peach’s birthday, December 1st, and a sparkling gold Christmas star, of metal scrolls. The big topper was the twenty-dollar Christmas tree at Target, a whopping three feet in height, and pre-strung with white lights. So they had a hasty Christmas tree decorating bash between stopping at the bank and coming back home for dinner. A satisfying afternoon…
Funny the small talk checkers would make in the stores… At Target that morning:
“Hey, trying that new Holiday Pepsi-Cola, eh?”
“Oh, yeah… sounds weird.”
“Maybe. Had one in here earlier, a different one. Did you try it?”
“Nope.”
“Yeah, had nutmeg, and other stuff in it.”
Collette wondered about their Canadian neighbors downstairs, as she would often mention in passing with OLeif… whether they had friends in the area, of whether all their family was back up north. She noticed their shades were always drawn shut, and as they were leaving that morning, a wreath was on the door, a small cypress wreath with a shiny silver ribbon woven through.
That afternoon, Mom unwrapped her plate, and loved it. She placed it on top of the piano by her semi-”Gone with the Wind” lamp. It blended nicely with everything else. And then there were sub-sandwiches and hilarious sentimental home-video plays, concerts, and miscellany to watch. What with nine boys in the house, Dad included in that number, the Coca-Cola boys, Ben-Hur, Buddy (Francis’ neighbor friend), Israel, and Chester Hobcoggin, the house was rambunctious with the “Boys’ Army” training, video and computer games, deep chuckles, high-pitched squeals, and other exclamations
Carrie-Bri came blazing through later in strawberry-shortcake pink and black, with newly re-dyed hair of redish-golden-blonde streaks, ready for her Muse concert (a classical pianist fellow, who sounded somewhat like the Phantom of the Opera with rock), downtown with Lucia and friends, quite a large bunch, actually.
Meanwhile, Rose went to complain once again to Collette about what she had complained of the past several weeks.
“I can’t babysit again,” she moaned, falling onto the couch.
“Why, Rose?”
“Those kids – that one is crazy. He stuck his head under the garage door!”
“Yes, I know, Rose. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“You don’t know these kids,” Rose moaned with half a reluctant smile.
Nevertheless, Rose went off to baby-sit a spell, and the house was happy and bouncing with good food, old Christmas classics, and the usual giggles and guffaws of the Snicketts household. Collette always enjoyed the times she had there.
A lonely fisherman’s bell rang out on the wharf that evening as the night drew in. It was the old school bell outdoors, rung in passing by the boys chasing Troops. But it reminded her of Maine and the wonderful summer there. And of other times – lighthouses, storms, cold beaches, and fond memories.
The evening was quite sentimental with old memories of “the good old times,” four and five years ago, and she rather wished she could have held on longer to those days. She recalled how fabulous and exciting, how beautiful their wedding had been to her, full of family, friends, and fun, people she could never forget, memories she would always keep… It was good to reflect a spell on everything and life.