It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like…

By Janet Payne-Downs

This year I will spend ten days with the Friendswood Clan at Christmas. That’s enough time to get into trouble, marry, buy a horse, order some spurs (not bone), or even worse…be such an impatient, grumpy, lazy guest that Michael and Najla will rescind  their very vague idea to come earlier (like March) and live in their house while I’m waiting for my housing to come through.

For a year.

With three grandchildren and one newborn.

And my Charlie turning it into a three dog household.

Without my friends.

While looking for a job.

There is so much to think about and my mind just can’t today.

I’d rather tell you a little story about my 2016 Christmas.

•••

In May of that year, I succumbed to receiving a ‘partial’ for my mouth. Because it’s such a hard plastic, my dentist suggested I put it under hot water so it would be more pliable. No problem, I thought confidently.

And … since running it under the hot water was so helpful, I thought putting it in a glass of really hot water for a minute would help even more. And it did!

And since that worked so well, I decided that putting it in a small glass of water in the microwave for five seconds would be even better. And it was. I had reached ‘partial’ perfection.

Fast forward to Friendswood, Texas, Christmas morning. All of us had awoken early, naturally, and as the kids were shaking all the presents, tossing some to the dogs, and making piles for each person, the adults were readying their coffee for the melee.

As had been my new norm, I put my precious partial into a cup of water, set the timer on the microwave and toddled off to pretty myself. Approximately five minutes later I heard the following:

“MOM!” Michael yelled.

“What did you put in the microwave!?”

I rounded the corner and without looking, knew exactly what had transpired. Smoke was billowing (yes, billowing!) from the microwave along with an indescribable stench.

I have often heard that a loud sigh is tantamount to screaming. At that moment in Michael’s kitchen, I knew I couldn’t scream, swear, or leave.  My partial was melted and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. There went about …oh, seventeen hundred dollars. I sighed.

I bravely ambled over to the microwave to peek in and see if there was anything salvageable.

Nope.

Everything was gone, except a petite, quiet, lonely tooth in the middle of the turntable…the cup had been blown to smithereens, and the smoke was still lingering. At that moment I realized that without my glasses, I had mistakenly set the timer for five minutes instead of five seconds.

Embarrassingly, this sad incident was the story of the day (of the year, actually).

On that note, I bid you adieu; Happy Holidays, stay safe, don’t drink and drive, love your neighbor, and Merry Christmas.

See you next year!