| December 24 '05 |
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| Volume 499 |
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Christmas Bad
Luck Christmastime Light Troubles
I don't know that bad luck is the best description; snake-bit might
be a better choice of words. When Rayanne came over to help with Christmas
decorations, she also found an unused wreath that she thought would look
good hung on the guesthouse. She may be a whiz when it comes to tweaking
wreaths and deciding what to put where, but she falters when she hits a brick
wall.
"Can you fix something for me to hang this on?" she asked, holding up a large
wreath. "I want to see how it looks on Jason's house."
"I don't know," I protested. "I have some mortar nails, somewhere, but I
don't know if I have a drill bit for a starter hole."
I found a drill bit that looked to be about the right size, then went in
search of a nail. However, my search turned up a three-inch brass bolt that
looked as though it would serve the purpose better, so I decided to try it.
Rayanne picked a spot on the wall for the wreath and said, "It needs to hang
about here."
I drilled a hole where she thought it needed to be, screwed in the bolt,
hung the wreath, and heard Rayanne say, "That's gonna be too low."
About then, I noticed a painted-over nail in the woodwork trimming the wall
a few inches left of a vertical line above the bolt. A short piece of wire
was still on the back of the wreath from its last use, so we managed to tie
it to the nail, suspending the wreath at just the right height and covering
the exposed bolt. Now, everything was to Rayanne's satisfaction, except we
needed a spotlight on the wreath.
I drove to our local mass merchandiser and bought an outdoor spotlight and
a receptacle with a ground stake. I could have saved myself a second trip,
had I thought I might need a timer capable of turning on the spotlight at
dusk and then turning off the light after a pre-set number of hours. After
assembling everything at home, and staking the light fixture in the ground,
Rayanne gave the endeavor her stamp of approval. Two days later I bought
the timer I needed and attached it.
About a week later, I drove home from work to find the spotlight not burning.
The timer had stopped working, so I removed the timer and plugged the extension
cord directly into the outside electrical outlet. The light came on, and
I muttered something about quality workmanship and "made in China."
The next night I discover the light not burning, again. I assumed the bulb
had burned out, though I couldn't imagine why, unless it, too, was defective.
I unscrewed one of the floodlights mounted on one of the eaves of the guesthouse
and tried it in the fixture. It would not burn either. I took both bulbs
inside for further examination and testing. I was in the process of removing
a lampshade in order to test each floodlight, when I noticed black soot all
over my right hand. I soon discovered the source of the soot came from the
blackened base of the almost new floodlight. And, a closer inspection revealed
two holes burned into the base of the bulb, which led me to check the fixture.
Somehow moisture had gotten into the electrical connection and shorted out
everything. Chalk up another product failure to "made in China."
Instead of heading back to our local mass merchandiser to replace everything,
I stopped off at my sister's house, because, I remembered seeing an unused
floodlight receptacle in her carport. I "borrowed it," and after screwing
the spare floodlight into it and staking it in the ground, everything worked,
except the timer, of course.
The next day I was back at the mass merchandiser, talking to a "not too bright"
employee who asked if I needed help with something. I explained I was looking
for a timer, and after considerable effort made him understand exactly what
I needed.
"Oh, we're out of those, but we'll be getting more in January," he stated,
as we stood looking at a bare spot on a display of electrical products.
"I think this is one," I shared, spying a digital timer on a shelf instead
of where it should have been. "Yeah, this should do."
"Save your receipt, so if it doesn't work, you can get your money back."
"Maybe, he's brighter than I thought," I recall thinking, as I noticed "made
in China" on the package.
I took his advice, and sure enough, it didn't work, and I took it back for
a refund. I have since purchased a third timer, but I don't know if it will
last a full week or not. However, I kept the receipt and won't hesitate to
take it back for a refund if it, too, proves defective.
After replacing two timers, one floodlight, and one fixture, I still can't
decide. Am I snake-bit, or is it simply a run of bad luck?
Christmas
Orange I Like Peelings Better
My father got sick when I was about 18 months old and died when I was 3 years
old. We lived on a farm in Union County and had spent all our money on my
Father's sickness; therefore, we were very poor.
There were 4 of us boys ages 10, 6, 3, and 1&1/2. One Christmas we got
an orange for Christmas. My Mother said that since Ray was the youngest he
should get the orange but that I could have the orange next Christmas.
That was the longest year of my life, waiting for the next Christmas so that
I would get the orange. Christmas came and Ray got up first and ate the orange,
so I did not get the orange that year either. Today, I like orange peelings
better than oranges.
By Terry Maxey - Olive Branch, MS.
Christmas
Memories By Barbara Carter
Each year Wayne asks for Christmas memories from his readers and each year
he gets some very good memories. Many people reply that they do not have
any memories of Christmas. Well, why not make some memories now?
For the past two days I have been in the memory- making business. About sixteen
or seventeen years ago I was working on Christmas dinner. It was Christmas
Eve, because I always mix up my cornbread dressing the night before and store
it in the refrigerator over night so that the flavors all mix together. Our
only granddaughter at the time wanted to help. She was probably two or three
years old, so we first washed our hands, and then I placed her on the kitchen
counter in order for her to reach the mixing bowl.
We had our hands over the mixing bowl crumbling the cornbread and I said,
"Anna, do you know what we are making?"
"No, Nana. What?" Anna replied.
"We are making memories," I told my granddaughter.
Since that year, I gather my grandchildren together sometime during the week
of Christmas, and we make more Christmas memories. We make Christmas cookies,
gingerbread houses, Christmas dinner, we go shopping, we visit friends, and
we talk and play.
This year Merilese and Katherine, my youngest grandchildren, came over on
Sunday afternoon and spent the night. They came in wanting to start making
cookies, but I told them we would do that on Monday. The anticipation was
almost that of Christmas Eve. To fill our time we watched Christmas movies
on TV, the girls played with Legos, and when I turned my back they crawled
way under the Christmas tree where I had their gifts hidden and found them.
Then, they wanted to open them, but I said, "No, you have to wait for Christmas."
"Please, Nana. Can't we open them now?"
"No, you have to wait."
Monday morning the girls were up moderately early, but we couldn't start
the cookie baking just then. We had to go to Wal-Mart. What an adventure!
The girls packed for this trip without a coat, and of course the temperatures
dropped. Our first mission was to seek some type of warm covering for when
we were outside. We found matching quilted vests that the girls liked, which
seemed to provide the warmth they needed outside.
That mission marked off; we headed for the Christmas tree ornament aisle.
You see, a few years back, I started letting Merilese pick out a Christmas
tree ornament that she likes to put on Nana and Daa's tree. We haven't been
consistent with this tradition, but we do have several ornaments that Merilese
remembers as "hers". Of course, Katherine needed to be included in this mission
as well, so we went looking for just the right ornaments for this year.
The girls decided on Care Bear ornaments, one pink and one blue. Those
have now been added to the tree with our other ornaments. Each year when
I unpack, I hopefully will remember that those were the ornaments that "my
girls" picked out for the tree.
Anna didn't get to come over to help with the cookie baking this year, because
she was working, but right after we cleaned up from lunch, we gathered all
the baking needs and started making cookies. This year we did semi-homemade
recipes, more for Nana than the girls, maybe, but fun just the same.
We took slice and bake sugar cookies and sliced very thin slices to place
on a cookie sheet. On top of each slice we placed a purchased, mint flavored
chocolate cookie and another thin sliced sugar cookie on top of that. We
beat an egg in a cup and brushed a small amount on top of the cookie and
then sprinkled a few chopped pecans. We then baked these at 350 degrees for
about 10 to 12 minutes. The result is a cookie that is quite tasty and pretty
as well.
While those cookies were baking we started with another prepared sugar cookie
dough¾ the kind found in the dairy case that
you break apart. I cut each square into four pieces and let the girls roll
them into balls. We were supposed to roll each ball in coconut, but they
said, "Yuck, we don't like coconut." so we used multi-colored sprinkles and
multi-colored stars instead. I did sneak in a few that I rolled in coconut.
After the cookies were all baked a friend came over, and we had coffee. The
girls had some milk, and we taste-tested the confections. They all passed
with flying colors. I found some trays and baskets and we arranged them for
storage until tomorrow.
This memory making is not just about my spending time with my grandchildren.
I hope that this is a time that I can share some insight for them on the
true meaning of Christmas, as well. For me, Christmas is a time to spend
with those you love, your family and friends, and a time to share with others
by giving gifts.
On Tuesday morning we gathered up our cookie trays and delivered them to
friends, so they can share the sweetness of love and friendship. I hope that
these will be memories for my grandchildren. I know these experiences are
memories for me.
Christmas
Presents Oranges & Nuts Were Perfect
What did children get for Christmas before some smarty invented batteries?
According to the stories told by my parents, booty back in the early part
of the 20th century wasn’t much – a set of dominos or jacks, a
rubber ball, perhaps a dolly, and almost always an orange and some nuts.
Now, I truly love oranges and nuts, but I remember being completely
unappreciative as a child when my stocking was filled with big fat oranges
and pecans (in the shell).
What was Santa thinking? I could go to the kitchen and get oranges and nuts.
They took up way too much room in my dinky stocking – room that should
have been crammed with trinkets and sparkly things.
But my parents (Santa’s helpers), partially from tradition and partially
from admirable thrift, filled our stockings with oranges and nuts and that
was that. We could like it or lump it. Believe me, there was no verbal complaint
registered from any of us four kids.
And, fifty years ago, not only were the contents of our stockings less than
exciting, the stockings themselves were drab and uninviting.
Each year we nailed Daddy’s black socks to the mantle and had long,
shapeless stockings with barely room enough for all the citrus and squirrel
food.
But not today! Now we’ve got stockings of embroidered velvet and delicate
cross-stitching, stockings (with batteries) that play Christmas ditties,
hand-painted and monogrammed stockings, stockings for the dog and cat. You
name it, there’s a stocking.
We pay big bucks for these fancy new stockings when Daddy’s socks worked
well enough. And you didn’t have to pack them up after Christmas. We
just emptied the oranges and nuts . . . and put the socks back in the dresser
drawer.
Another holiday tradition, non-battery-requiring, when I was a growing girl
was a cuddly reading annually of Clement Moore's "A Visit From St. Nicholas."
Only the Nativity Story is better at warming the heart.
Clement Moore was an academic, a Biblical scholar and the son of the Columbia
University president. For Christmas 1822, he wrote "'Twas the night before
Christmas . . ." ("A Visit From St. Nicholas") for his children, and the
next year his wife sent the poem to the Troy Sentinel editors in New York,
who published Moore's work anonymously.
Scholars say "A Visit From St. Nicholas" was revolutionary; for the first
time Santa Claus was portrayed as a regular old guy who brought gifts to
every child, rich or poor.
I suppose Santa just ran out of trinkets and toys and sparkly things at some
point and had to dig down in the bottom of his sleigh for oranges and nuts.
As a kid, I couldn't figure any other explanation.
But, like many of you, I get nostalgic for old-fashioned Christmases with
beloved stories and simple gifts in Daddy’s socks.
I’m thinking I might fill bowls with popcorn and cranberries for stringing
as I did in 1992 when I broke my ankle and couldn’t move around much.
Except for the surgery, the ankle-breaking experience wasn’t all bad.
I sat in the den by the fire, listened to Christmas music, and yes, I DID
string popcorn and cranberries for the tree.
Hey, maybe this Christmas we could also roast pecans and squeeze oranges
into divine ambrosia.
Oranges and nuts – yes! What a novel idea!
By Beth Boswell Jacks - Cleveland, MS
Note: Beth Jacks writes a syndicated column called Snippets and
administers www.usadeepsouth.com, which is a website showcasing the writings
of Southern authors. Her article "Oranges And Nuts" is used by permission.
Bodock Beau Three Wise Women
The entire staff of RRN and I wish each of you a Merry Christmas.
Three Wise Women
What would have happened if it had been
three wise women who visited the baby Jesus instead of three wise men?
They would have asked directions, gotten there early, cleaned the stable,
made a casserole and brought practical gifts.
A Saucy Reply
A man's dentures were bothering him. They had become all pitted and scarred.
"What have you been eating?" asked his dentist.
"Hollandaise sauce," the man replied. "And no matter what you say, I’m
not giving it up."
"Okay," the dentist said. "I’ll make you new plates out of chrome. Everyone
knows that there’s no plates like chrome for the hollandaise."
Laugh Letter Newsletter - December 2005
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