Though the years I’ve enjoyed many Christmas’ with fun Christmas food and fun Christmas caroling and fun Christmas eggnog with fun Christmas adventures.
I’ve given and received great Christmas gifts, mediocre Christmas gifts, and downright shitty Christmas gifts. Aah, those Christmas memories do light the corners of my mind.
I remember the time I stripped naked and wrapped myself in red wrapping paper and took a photo and used it as my Christmas card with the caption, “Guess who’s all wrapped up with no place to go? Ho! Ho! Ho!”
I remember the time I tried making Christmas cannoli. The shells came out delicious but the cream, the supposed easy part of the recipe, I over beat and it turned liquid. I had a kitchen disaster not even Gordon Ramsey could fix. To this day, I cannot eat a cannoli without thinking of The Great Cannoli Debacle of Christmas Past.
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| Where's the friggin' cream? |
I remember my favorite Christmas joke. The same joke I relentlessly tell every year:
Santa comes down the chimney with gifts. A girl appears and says, “Santa, will you spend the night with me?”
Santa says, “Ho, ho, ho, Santa gotta go. Got lots of toys to deliver, you know.”
The girl removes her top and says, “Santa, will you please spend the night with me?”
Santa says, “Ho, ho, ho, Santa gotta go. Got lots of toys to deliver, you know.”
Finally she removes all her clothes and says, “Santa, will you pleeeeease spend the night with me?”
Santa says, “Ho, ho, ho, Santa gotta stay. Can’t get up chimney with pecker this way”
Aah… but semi-nude photos, cannoli nightmares, and demented Christmas jokes do not light a Christmas candle to the Christmas memory I have when my little niece bought me a Christmas gift with her own money at her grammar school store.
The gift was wrapped in festive Christmas paper with a bow to match. It was a beautiful looking package, but what was more beautiful was the look in her eyes as she gave it me. That look was bigger and brighter than any star of Bethlehem.
You’re probably wondering what the gift was? It was a level. Yes, a level to make sure things are even and not askew.
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| My treasured level! |
I love that level. It has moved with me from place to place and every once in a while I do a level check around my apartment making sure nothing is at an inappropriate angle.
It’s been years since she gave it to me, and she probably doesn’t remember, but I do, and I always will.
And that is a favorite Christmas memory.
My goodness, is that a Christmas tear in my eye?
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