The Stocking Box

Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’ve been fixating on stupid things like Public Participation Techniques and Canberra-A New Vision of Urban Form. I’ve had no time to leave witty comments on your blogs and as we all know, if you don’t give you don’t receive.  Fracking Finals are over, I’m just waiting for them to post my end of term grades to reconfirm that I too can be a card carrying smarty pants. Move over Sheldon, mommy has a 4.11 GPA. I completed my group projects with a minimum of bullying. One a-hole who missed every team meeting was snarky enough to actually say, “well some of us have jobs”. He’s lucky I didn’t give him a major wedgie and pull his tighty whiteties  over his head.  

But now it’s time to get into the holiday spirit, spending money I don’t have on crap no one really needs. As many of you may or may not know I grew up the middle of the pack of seven ruffians.  There is only an eight year distance between the oldest mal content and the itty bitty Christmas baby. There was one year that we were all teenagers at the same time. Shudder.  My parents swore they had electric shock therapy to block out the good, the bad and the ugly.  

With so many of hooligans my parents devised a system of spreading their monopoly money around to make the day special. They invested their efforts in filling our stockings with a variety of doo dads. The rule was we could not go downstairs until the parents who toiled until midnight got up. To keep us busy they loaded up boxes to hold all our treasures rather than a simple stocking.  It would hold the usually candy and underwear but it was filled with little personal things for each of us.  Books and puzzles. Gold hooped earrings and new horse brushes. Little miniature animals to add to my growing collection. 

As we got older, we passed this tradition to include our own children and spouses.  But it’s officially out of control, the Big Tuna gets things like beer and slinky nighties for me to model and some wrench that is more like a Swiss army knife.  We spend more money on filling the stocking box then we spend on actual presents. It’s a goal to fill them to the brim and bring squeals of joy . This week we have a special recipe, homemade Bailey’s. Yum!

Homemade Bailey’s Irish Cream

3 eggs

1 ½ Tablespoon chocolate syrup

1 can eagle brand evaporated milk

1 pint half and half

1 cup blended rum

½ cup dark rum

Combine ingredients and blend on high. Serve over ice. This receipe is a heck of a lot cheaper than the original and tastes just as good.

But it is a time of family, where we instantly fall back into our juvenile roles on days of our misspent youth. Playing endless games of remember when. The holidays always create flashbacks to embarrassing stories that we can trot out to various existing and potential in laws for maximum mortification.

• Like the time 14 year old Marky Mark got busted for stealing the copper down drain off the church. Apparently, God forgives if the price of precious metals is high enough.

• Or the time an underage brother got busted for carrying beer. When queried by the coppers he gave up an older brother pretty darn quick. This resulted in a $50 fine, my mom was so irritated for the tattling she made them split the cost.

• Or the time an older sibling took me the movies to see Woody Allen’s “Everything you wanted to know about sex but were afraid to ask”. Well apparently I was asking lots of questions, in a very loud voice,  not at all phased by desperate shushing pleadings.   I’m lucky the men dressed as swimming sperm didn’t scar me for life.

Or the recent recounting of the Tooth Fairy. When going thru my mom’s things we came across a sweet letter from my Sistah addressed to Fairy Dust Lane.

Dear Tooth Fairy, I am sorry I lost my tooth. If you don't believe me you may ask one of your closest friends Mrs. Aldorf Smith. Yours truely, Ruth

As I recalled that she was always a bit of a suck up and wondered if I too had penned a begging letter, my brother Pauly  said, “I bet it said Bitch, we need more dough” And sure enough further in the stack was mine.

 Dear Tooth Fairy, I think we should have a raise in our tooth money. I think a half a buck would be all right. Sign, Dawn

No one ever said I was very subtle.  Hopefully Santa will overlook my naughtiness and fill my Stocking Box with wine and cheese. Happy holiday Team Tuna! X0X0X0

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