Not With a Bang, But a Whimper

Not long after my last post at the end of December, Megan got engaged and the wedding planning madness began. I thought after it was all over, I'd feel like writing again.

I have thought of a few topics. Two titles were, "Hello. My Name is Shauna, and I'm a Recovering Mother of the Bride," and "Chick Days? I Didn't Know There Were Chick Days!" But the main ideas I really want to get out of my head would be sure to get me in trouble.

So...rather than leaving you waiting and wondering (I'm flattering myself here, thinking any of you even noticed the lack of new material), I'm not planning on any new posts and will probably delete the account so I don't feel like it's hanging over my head. I've copied all my old ones for my own records. I have to admit I'm still amused by some of them, and some of the photos crack me up.

I'm still on Facebook (those of you without a Facebook account should think about it and get on board! Kevin can help you with the privacy settings). Thanks for reading and for your comments over the past thirteen months. 

The Questionable Gift

After grilling my 91-year old father for Christmas gift ideas, he caved and said he could use a new Norelco shaver to replace his older one. Shopping online, I found the model I wanted at newegg.com. It even came with a free nose/ear hair trimmer. I don’t know if my dad needs his nose hairs trimmed, and the idea of anyone putting a rotary trimmer in their nose makes my eyes water, but it was free!

 

(Warning, digression ahead: The hair trimmer reminds me of the Epilady. Have you ever tried it? It was promoted as a pain free way to replace shaving your legs. I foolishly fell for the hype and bought one. I did one swipe on my leg and yelled, “Ow, ow, OW!!” as it tore the hair out by the roots. Obviously invented by a man).

Back to the story: The package from Newegg arrived at my father’s apartment on December 16th. I told him he needed to wait until Christmas to open it. I knew him. I asked, “If I hadn’t told you to wait, you’d open it now, huh?” He paused a second, then said in a small voice, “Yes.”

When I talked to Dad on Christmas Eve morning, he informed me in no uncertain terms he was going to open my present that day. He knew what was in the package and wanted to use it on Christmas day.

Christmas morning I made my daily ten A.M. phone call. The conversation went something like this:

Dad: “Well, I opened your present yesterday.”
Me: “Oh, do you like it?”
Dad: “I don’t know what to do with it.”
Me: (Thinking he meant the nose hair trimmer), “What do you mean?”
Dad: “It’s a Nintendo game thing and I don’t know how to use it!”
Me: (Shocked) “A Nintendo?”

Dad: “Preet (one of his caregivers) was here and helped me open the box. She was excited and said her son wanted one of those, but they were very expensive. I told her maybe my daughter wanted me to use it to improve my mind. Is this what you wanted to give me?”
Me: “No! It was supposed to be a Norelco shaver!”

So I’m in the process of getting Newegg to correct the mis-shipment. But I can’t help but think that some young boy opened up his Christmas gift to find a Norelco shaver instead of a Nintendo DS, crying out, “What’s this?!”

Smith and Byers Christmas 1950’s Style

Here are some Christmas photos from Larry’s and my families for your perusal:

The Smith kids in 1955: Me, Kim, Greg, Kay and Judy.  I was three years old. We’re in front of the fireplace in our San Lorenzo home.

I seem to have a smug mug in this photo.

I have no idea why I look upset. Crazed, actually.

A wacky smile on my face. Maybe too much fudge and divinity?

We’re anxiously awaiting Santa!

Christmas 1958. I was 6 years old. This is what color photos look like after 50 years. Sort of like looking through rose-colored glasses. My mother made my ballerina outfit/costume. It was blue satin with a pink tutu. I used my slipper socks as ballet shoes.

We got quite a haul that year; toys we actually played with for years. There’s a metal dollhouse, a blue pedal powered car, a small piano, doll clothes carriers, and an inflatable horse. (OK, I don’t think the horse made it past a year).

Here is Larry’s family in 1958. He was 3. There’s Barry, Sandra, Larry and Suzanne. Youngest sister Mary Lynne wouldn’t be born for another three years. Isn’t Larry cute?

I don’t know what made Larry have such an astonished expression, but Barry is cool and calm.

My favorite. Larry looks so cute and excited for Christmas to come.

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and good times remembering the old times.

The Naughty Christmas

The following story’s events are true, unless you’re Judy or Greg. Then there might be a different version. Do they even remember…

The Christmas of 1960 found Judy, age 10, me, age 8 and Greg, age 6, anxiously awaiting to see if our wishes from Santa would be fulfilled. One day while my parents were gone, Judy hatched the idea of searching my parents’ bedroom for presents. Greg and I went along.

Judy found the Thumbelina doll she had asked for. She turned the knob on the doll’s back. Its head began moving, making the whole body squirm in supposedly lifelike motions.

Greg found the Mr. Machine toy he had asked for. He wound it up and it whistled as it rolled about the room.

 

I don’t remember what I asked for that year, but I remember we found The Game of Life. We opened it up, put the spinner in place and made it whirl.

I felt bad sneaking into my parents’ room, but we did it several times and played with our gifts. Our parents must have become suspicious, because they put a piece of clear tape at the top of their door. We saw it and made sure to replace it if we went into their room.

The snooping escalated. We got into the presents under the tree. We carefully unwrapped the ends of our gifts to see what was inside, then sealed them back up.

By then, I felt sick inside. Not only was I sneaking around, but I had absolutely destroyed the magic of Christmas morning by knowing what I was to receive.

My parents finally sat the three of us down on the couch and told us they knew what we had been doing. They said we would be getting nothing for Christmas. The gifts would be returned. I was devastated, but knew it would be a just punishment.

Christmas morning, the gifts were still there, Thumbelina, Mr. Machine and The Game of Life were under the tree from Santa. But I felt no joy in receiving them that year.

The next year, my mother bought three different patterns of gift wrap. She used one pattern for Judy, one for me and one for Greg with no gift tags. That way we couldn’t know which present was for which child. But we weren’t tempted to cheat again.

Thanksgiving Misgivings

We are alone this Thanksgiving. Just Larry, Kevin and me. Larry and I are recovering from “stomach flu” and had to cancel plans to have dinner with Judy and her family, my dad, and Megan and her boyfriend. Since we weren’t going, Megan is staying in Merced and will have Thanksgiving dinner with Bryan’s family.

This morning’s Modesto Bee newspaper came in a wrapper very relevant to our condition, featuring a product I’m very familiar with:

I laughed and had to show Larry. You’re supposed to cut along the dotted lines to make a bib.

So I’m cooking a small dinner for us and am hoping we can eat it. I’m really disappointed I won’t be seeing my family.

Just to end on a cute note, here is a photo of Megan’s first Thanksgiving with Grandma Byers, taken at Larry’s parents’ house in San Jose. Meg was ten months old. I wanted Megan to lean in toward the turkey, but she wasn’t having any of it! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Halloween Scrooge

I used to love Halloween, but our experiences the past few years have soured me. My family has turned into Halloween Scrooges. No one wants to answer the door for trick-or-treaters anymore. Here are a few rules if anyone wants to come to our house:

1. If you drove yourself to our neighborhood, you are too old to trick-or-treat.
2. If you have to shave, you are too old to trick-or-treat.
3. If you don’t have a costume, no candy for you.
4. If your baby has no teeth yet, don’t hold out a bag “For the baby.” I know who’s going to eat the candy and it’s NOT the baby.
5. If you are a parent, don’t hold out a bag for candy for yourself.
6. Don’t come to my house twice. I don’t forget that easily.
7. Don’t try to step inside my house.
8. If the porch light is ON, it’s OK to knock on the door.
9. Conversely, if the porch light is OFF, don’t knock on the door.
10. Seeing lights on INSIDE the house is not the same as having the porch light on (see rules 8 and 9).

Guess that’s all I can think of for now. After typing this, I don’t think we’ll be doing the trick-or-treat thing after all. (And after reading this, you probably wouldn’t want to come to our grouchy house, anyway).

                

(I found a bunch of posters online from the UK like the ones above. They are provided by different cities’ police departments each year. Citizens can copy and post them on their doors to avoid being bothered. I asked Larry if we should put one on our door, but he said, “No, we’d probably get egged.”)

The Black Hand

A late night radio host was discussing “Shadow People.”  This website explains, “Shadow people are paranormal shadow-like creatures that people usually see in their peripheral vision.  Reports suggest that they do not appear to reflect light and that their appearance is essentially a silhouette in black.”

This brought back a frightening nighttime childhood memory. I was probably eight years old or younger. I was on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed or trundle bed, playing with my stuffed animals; a panda bear and a lion. I had a flashlight to spotlight the show I was producing, with the animals as the stars.

Suddenly, a black hand appeared at the side of the bed. It was a solid black shadow. The hand slowly rose up to about mid-forearm length, formed a fist, opened back up, and slowly sunk back down out of sight. I was terrified. I don’t remember what I did after that frightening vision. I’m pretty sure I stayed in bed, too scared to get out and get help.

 

The next day, I told my brother, Greg, what I had seen. Sometime later, he told me he saw The Black Hand appear by his bed.

For years, I was afraid of seeing The Black Hand again. I wouldn’t look at the side of my bed at night. I especially wouldn’t let my hand or leg extend past the edge of the bed, out into Black Hand territory. (I’m sort of still scared to do that)!

Seeing The Black Hand was probably some sort of dream I had after playing with the stuffed animals and flashlight, but it was very real and very vivid. Actually still is.

What scares you in the dark of the night?