He Was Warned...

Okay, it was after the fact, but dig it: We did the full Santa deal this morning. Mo used the markers she got to give SpongeBob a makeover (she's an artist), and Em made immediate use of her makeup kit even though she's several years too young for 'dating' and resistant to my notions of an arranged marriage to Tony Gonzalez (to my financial profit, of course), saying she only roots for that handsome devil and isn't looking to be the bride of some retired footballer 25 years older than her. Even if he would buy her Daddy a fancy car.

Not that her Daddy is 'into' fancy cars, it's fun to tease. She loved the '88 jersey she got from Frau Lobster's folks.

In true Dickensian holiday tradition, we ate the wrong food and drank before noon (mimosas made for five out of a split of champagne and a half gallon of OJ). In John Cheever fashion, I found out my in-laws tip their mailman and garbage collectors. Mailmen, I can get my mind around 'how' if not 'why.' Leave a fifth of booze in the box with no addresses or postage, right? How do you 'tip' the trash man? I ain't putting a fifth of whiskey on top of the refuse in a can in the hopes the trash man will notice it isn't empty and take it as a 'gift.' I've talked to the owner of our local trash outfit once, when I'd put a can of bricks out and they didn't take it. It wasn't banned from the landfill but the rule was if one guy couldn't lift it, it didn't go in the truck.

I told him if one guy could drag the fucking thing to the curb, they could pick it up, and this apparently made trash-man sense. They came back, backed over the curb and two guys got out and tipped 40 gallons of bricks into the truck. Other than that, the only talk I've had has involved opening an account an paying them.

Tip the dudes? What do I do, wait for them to be coming down the street, probably hours after I'm expected at work, and hand them cash in hopes that next time they'll pick up my ridiculous load of bricks without a phone call? Hell, hauling those bricks to the dump in my not-quite-ancient pickup would at least justify having a truck, and I'd only incur $20 in tipping fees with anything my F-150 can haul without breaking an axle.

Later on Christmas Day (this is a post about Christmas, remember?), Mo jumped on Aunt Kelly's lap for a puppet show. This is a big deal. Why?

Well, Aunt Kelly is relatively new to the family, the whole divorce and remarriage thing, and I didn't think Mo had been around her enough to get that comfortable. Mo doesn't just get on any lap, usually she won't get on any lap. But Kelly is cool, a major upgrade on the 'aunt' front.

Uncle Steve had the most fun, though, because he didn't realize he was on Candid Camera. Frau Lobster caught this video of her older brother (payback is hell, right? Older brother equals torture). I told him I was going to put it on the web and he only blushed, didn't tell me I couldn't put it up. I have shit in the way of editing software, so if you don't want to spend five MB of bandwidth to see my Brother-in-Law hamming it up, don't bother. I have a list of people he went to school with who will get the link, and that's what really counts.