Dashing Through the…Mud

It is raining here. I’m getting out my cubit measure.  Because the mud is really deep. Santa will get splattered.  Quite possibly he will lose a boot to the muck. Forget the cookies.  Santa is going to need flip-flops: lots and lots of replaceable flip-flops.

Christmas (the dog) is doing a reasonably good job of leaving the presents wrapped. They’re only slightly damp and disheveled looking.  Lots of missing bows.  Note to self: next year?  Do not tie tags to the bows.   Because of this oversight, I foresee handing pink floral underwear to Micah to open on Christmas morning.

I cavalierly guessed which present goes to whom, and I wrote (hopefully) the correct names in ink on their wrapping.  I’m not sure, but I think Shaun is getting dog biscuits this year. I hope the dog is happy with the new crock pot.

Shaun was staring at the dog and the tree yesterday.  “What?”, I said, looking at the dog. His head was level to the lowest ornaments: “He’s not ripping anything open, right?”

“No”, Shaun says, slowly, “it looks like he’s licking something.”  We both cross our arms.  Lean closer to look.

The dog is very studiously washing the face of a snowman ornament.  Shaun and I look at each other.  Okaaaay.

Christmas is Tidy Dog.  He likes things to stay where they belong.  Trees live in the yard. Not the living room. I think if he were taller than 9 inches, the “stick” would have been dragged outside where it belongs.  His bow and tag relocation strategy is creating problematic interactions between bipeds.

“Honey?  Why is there a giant bow in the bathtub?”

“Uh”, I say, “you’re getting a bath for Christmas?”

Micah stomps out of his bedroom.  “I don’t think it’s funny!”, he says indignantly, waving a scrap of paper in the air.

“What?”, I say, mildly.

“That tag on my laundry basket! (Mimics shrill voice, presumably my nagging one.) Dear Micah, Merry Christmas!  Have fun with it, love Mom.” He shakes his head.  “Geeze, just tell me you want me to do the laundry, okay?”

We should have an interesting Christmas morning.

In a brilliant effort not to take part in The Candy Replacement Program, I am leaving the candy at Daisy’s until the last second.  I wonder if she knows her doorbell is going to ring at exactly 11:59 on Christmas Eve?

I haven’t heard whether or not possession of The Candy has forced her into The Replacement Program.

I can’t put a friend in this position again.  Friends do not leave chocolate at friends houses, with the directive Do Not Eat.  That’s frenemy territory.

Next year I’m renting a safe deposit box, at the bank, for the $6 worth of M&M’s. Better storage area than my thighs. (I suppose I can use it during the rest of the year for my birth certificate, or some other dumb thing.  Like our will.)

I have to save me from myself somehow.

I had one of those days.

I ate an entire package of raw broccoli before I realized it was a Ghiradelli chocolate assortment.  (It was awfully good broccoli.) Fresh and minty, with chocolate undertones.

I think I’ve gone into sugar hallucinations.

I have one question smoldering in the holiday debris of my brain.  I really need to know. I’ve asked this question periodically since I was five years old.  It’s the stuff of horror movies.

What, exactly, is a sugar-plum?  Why do they dance in our heads?

And most importantly, can we fumigate?


9 thoughts on “Dashing Through the…Mud

  1. My thighs are have…bulked up. Especially after delving into fudge and cookies.

    We had our first snow fall of the year last night and I shoveled it early this morning. My birthday gift to my husband 🙂 I prefer snow to mud any day.

  2. Trying to muster sympathy for your rain/mud/dampness issues.

    Errrrrrrgh. Aaaaaghhh. MMMMmmpphhh. Hoooooooffffph?


    It’s just not happening. We consider ourselves blessed here in the Swampland because our mud isn’t frozen, except early in the mornings.

    “All weather is good if it does not require shovelling.”

    1. Yeah. I don’t have any sympathy for us either. 😉 Shaun just returned from visiting family in a snow State. There was a blizzard. It was 30 below zero.

      I must confess, I’m grateful for the nice warm mud. Ours won’t freeze over until the end of January, and then only for shortish periods. I have a brown horse. Who am I to complain about mud??

  3. I really DID want to know what a sugar plum was, thank you! Now it makes sense, given the era in which the references were written. Dried fruits would be the ‘sweet’ of choice!

    Yet another life-threatening question answered by the supremely intelligent and well informed people who read…this? 😉

  4. From Wikipedia:
    “A sugar plum is a piece of dragée candy that is made of dried fruits and shaped in a small round or oval shape. “Plum” in the name of this confection does not mean plum in the sense of the fruit of the same name. At one time, “plum” was used to denote any dried fruit. Sugar plums can be made from any combination of dried plums (aka prunes), dried figs, dried apricots, dried dates, and dried cherries. The dried fruit is chopped fine and combined with chopped almonds, honey, and aromatic spices, such as anise seed, fennel seed, caraway seeds, and cardamom. This mixture would then be rolled into balls, often then coated in sugar or shredded coconut.”
    I suppose if one can’t eat chocolate, this might be an acceptable substitute.
    And I also suppose, if one is going to hallucinate, I think I’d rather have the s.p. fairy do the dancing, rather than the candies themselves…

  5. LOL Our cats are unwrapping everything. We have all our gifts hidden in the recycle bin. Not very festive, but apparently perfect camoflague.

    Your local credit union will have better rates on safe deposit boxes. Just FYI.

  6. I bought 2 boxes of marzipan; one for me and one so the family could experience the joy that is marzipan. I ate both boxes last week.

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