MAGGI PICAYUNE

My last installment for the Seven Days of Christmas has almost come full circle! Although I began my annual tradition regarding the Holiday period in 2007, I fired up this Weblog format in 2005…so it seems I logged the essentials of what happened.

The biggest highlight was having a great review with my new boss Juan. I felt pretty vindicated because I knew that if I got the change in supervisors I requested, I could demonstrate to HR where the trouble spots were, namely me not being one. In defense of Juan’s predecessor, I don’t completely blame him for the problems, I think he was improperly influenced by factors beyond his control.

Glad to have the unpleasantness of work finally behind me, I celebrated at D&B with my co-worker Tony.

Somara probably didn’t get to join since her hours at the HEB job were erratic, inconsistent. Those were some pretty rough times for my wife. I was unable to console her. Personally, the position, money and whatnot didn’t upset me. Somara was contributing to the household budget so I was cool with anything she brought in. My salary covered the lion’s share, hers shored up the edges. I needed to find a way to compensate for the whole Phoenix debacle which remains my fault.

Christmas was on a Sunday that year and I was a Tuesday-Saturday regular, therefore I was destined to have the following Monday off. How glad I was for this scheduling development because we didn’t do anything with Somara’s family until late in the afternoon. Her brother Aaron is obligated to spend the entire morning at his in-laws’ based around South Austin, then he transfers his family to the Georgetown faction for the afternoon-evening. This makes Christmas a long day for everyone involved.  I shared my nephew Wyatt’s sleepiness and I was fighting off a sore throat (December 2005 was plagued with illness, few posts). Somara’s parents also dragged it out with their crap of unwrapping one gift at a time by chronological (recipient’s age) order. Here’s when I’m glad my family has no set or annoying traditions.

Overall, the period was low-key and filled with cautious optimism despite being not very memorable.

This concludes the Seven (formerly Six) Days of Christmas IV. Next year will likely be the last run since the five-year intervals will get recycled for 2012.

Christmas Day fell on a Monday again so I chose to work, earn the extra scratch but negotiated the 26th off, it would be a pseudo-short week. Besides, we lived in an apartment that was a mere several blocks away.

I knew it would be slow because the only customers we spoke to on Western holidays were those with contracts. In 2000, the Xserve was another two years away and Mac OS X’s debut was slated for Spring 2001, this made the odds of a priority one emergency pretty slim. To pass the hours, I lugged in a couple of my new 3E D&D books to finish converting Castle Amber for the campaign I was running on Wednesday evenings.

My phone rang once before lunch time. I figured it would be either a wrong number, a real contract-based customer or somebody trying to get free support. It was the first possibility: an autodialer playing a recording of Ed Asner. What was he saying? Something about trying to reform the Electoral College (something I’m in favor of abolishing anyway, it’s Alexander Hamilton’s final gesture to put the club on the steering wheel of democracy). Being a holiday, I let it play out figuring a human being may come on the line. Nope. The device called in again and my co-worker Jacob picked it up.

When my shift ended at 5 PM, Somara and I met at our apartment. She probably visited her family in Georgetown while I was working. We exchanged gifts, etc. I have no recollection about what was involved. I think I gave her a multi-disc DVD player but it was weeks earlier or later. I’m confident Somara got me something I enjoyed.

Boxing Day was a kick-back day. We used some movie passes I received from Kenny’s Coffee Company to see Dracula 2000 starring an unknown Gerard Butler as the titular vampire.

Not much else to this time. Work, eating, sleeping, reading and watching cable.

There is one thing while writing that came up. I was still pondering whether or not I wanted to be the lead genius at Apple’s upcoming retail store in Chicago. It was going to be on Michigan Avenue, a very pricey shopping district the locals call the Magnificient Mile. It was tempting. I could focus on what I really wanted to do with Macs, fixing them in person instead of doing it via the phone. Communication is vital to getting to a rapid solution. However, I couldn’t tell Somara. The stores were a secret despite all the rumors. I just implied the possibility of a transfer and floated a half-dozen major cities to keep her in the dark. Chicago received a very negative response. This was pushing me toward declining the offer.

New Year’s Eve is a bigger mystery. We probably spent it at home. I think I would’ve remembered a party or gathering with our friends.

It was a relaxing period though. Had I known how crazy 2001 was going to be (having a house built, Grandma passing away, a scary from Phoenix and the 9/11 attacks), I might’ve pressed for an additional day or two off from work.

Christmas 1995 was the comeback year for the Nineties after five crappy ones in a row! All the previous times were marred by a lack of money; people to spend it with; a lingering, dour mood; or a combination of the previous three. The first I had in Austin really filled me with regret about coming to this city. I moved away to escape the despair of the Midwest only to re-experience it in better weather.

What a difference a year can make! By Thanksgiving 1995, I was going to finally follow through on the many things I had been wanting to do since the late Eighties. Primarily giving nice and/or thoughtful presents to friends and family. Having consistent employment through Apple’s temp agency plus maintaining weekends with the dorm made it feasible. I think 1995 was the start of my favorite tradition, sending funny (some say blasphemous) cards. The Internet makes this easier to do lately.

For the bulk of December, I reposted a Christmas fave as the site’s banner. I’m often reminded about it by my Marquette pals. The story behind the card’s purchase is a bit amusing. Back then I lived in Hyde Park and didn’t own a car so I often walked around Austin, namely if it was between Dobie Mall and my apartment. There was a little trinket store next to Amy’s Ice Cream HQ. It catered to Austin’s gay population like Sparks (also gone as last year), with items such as bumper stickers, shirts, etc. However, they carried great birthday cards and when this gem hit my humor radar, I probably bought out their current stock. It was certainly a litmus test on discovering which friends were holier-than-thou. Oddly, my mother liked it and her Catholicism can be thin-skinned. I tried to go back every year but I think the store closed when a Little City moved into Amy’s spot. I resorted to Sparks, Urban Outfitters and Book People from then on.

With the greeting cards tackled, shopping and shipping were spread out from Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve. The memorable gifts I gave for 1995: PageMaker 5 for Mom (she complained about pagination in WordPerfect), a Tazmanian Devil watch for Doc (Eiko and I bought it together) and a Beavis & Butt-Head book with a sound-effect remote for Paul. Helen couldn’t wait for the batteries to die on the this “toy.”

It was great to enjoy the holiday season properly. Properly? I had the epiphany on gift-giving sometime around college, most likely when I gave my brother that autographed Emo Phillips record. It may have been a flop with the recipient but the thrill of finding, making and/or buying something incredibly unique or “so you” was the remedy to the ennui I contracted from my high school years. It’s what drives me today and counters the ongoing holiday dread I tolerate, namely the lack of time to figure out what the kids want and the incessant bitching of Christians’ made-up war on Christmas.

Christmas Eve was on a Sunday which meant Babylon 5 would be airing after the news on Channel 42. Probably a rerun yet I didn’t care. The show’s larger story arc had me hooked while Deep Space Nine continued flop around with its upcoming Dominion War. I scored a pizza from Gatti’s to eat and keep my lap warm, exciting about how awesome this Christmas was going to be.

Christmas Day was spent at Doc and Masami’s apartment up in North Austin. With our friendship being patched up around May, I was no longer uncomfortable hanging out with him and the time went by pleasantly. The two of them completely surprised me with a big gift, the Millenium Falcon toy but it was the new, updated 1995 version: re-entry burns on the hull and sound effects from the movies. How the memories of 1979 flooded back into my brain. We stopped to get batteries for the starship at the first open convenience store I spotted.

Christmas Day 1995 (the original photo is in color in a box)

The three of us then undertook my movie-going tradition. We had high hopes for Mel Brooks’ Dracula, Dead and Loving It because it was his first with Leslie Nielsen. What a stinkburger! Two good gags was all it had. This is probably why Brooks started re-tooling his good movies into Broadway shows.

I didn’t mind returning to work that Tuesday. It was going to be a four-day week and by Saturday morning, I would be on a plane to Baltimore, ringing in 1996 with the Silders, Doug and Jose! Jose wasn’t going to come originally but I owed him a plane ticket because he covered our room to Nelson’s wedding in 1994.

However, the festivities were spoiled a tad by Apple’s pending woes. My immediate manager Big Mike Martin took me aside and said to be prepared for being let go. I was puzzled. The phones had been ringing continuously with the arrival of the 5300, my performance was positive according to him and Apple supposedly sold over a million units this quarter, what could be wrong? He didn’t know the specifics, he just wanted me to be braced. Mike was partially correct. The site director dumped a dozen temps at the end of the week. Nice compassionate move. It’s little wonder nobody says his name without a negative adjective in the same breath.

It was too late dwell on it then so I flew out East to whoop it up. How I miss the pre-TSA idiot days. I had a sixer of Shiner and Celis packed in my carry-on duffle bag. Today, I’d get third base from the agent’s full-body cavity search, be put on the no-fly list and the workers would drink my stuff when they get off duty.

When I arrived at BWI, it was wet and cold; everything I no longer missed about living up North. The Silders met me at the gate (another pre-2001 reality I miss) and I think we hung out until Jose’s flight arrived. Doug arrived in the morning or the day before. After we got settled in their apartment (a hilarious ‘burb called Cockeysville), we had some dinner.

New Year’s Eve’s plans to see parts of DC were spoiled by the terrible weather (we were in the midst of an unusual freeze), Newt Gingrich’s temper tantrum (aka the 1995 Federal shutdown) and Paul was in no mood to go. Being a guest, I let it slide. The main attraction was my friends not monuments.

Baltimore was a closer, better compromise. We saw the sights, combed a record store, ate seafood, played pool and stumbled upon Edgar Allen Poe’s grave.

And no, I'm not the one who leaves a bottle there on his birthday.

Being New Year’s Eve, we made it back to their place, scored a keg and snacks for our little bash. Helen’s sister Susan and brother-in-law Jim dropped in later. It wasn’t quite South Chicago (I miss the little cop bar down the street) yet we made the best of it by playing the games we enjoyed at Marquette and telling favorite anecdotes: Phil’s hands of death always brings the house down.

Paul is wearing my infamous jester hat because he was the "Threeman."

What else? I noticed how we had all come a long way since graduating from Marquette five years earlier. The Silders had moved to Baltimore for Paul’s new career in copywriting for a small agency. Helen landed an office job to pitch in and pass the time. Doug was an IT guy and he often talked crap about the Mac at his gig. Jose had just completed his first semester of law school and bought a house. Everything did seem to be looking up for us, the Class of ’90 (and ’91). Fifteen years later, I’m the only person in the same overall career: Paul works for the Feds, Helen is a teacher, Jose is between careers and Doug does something with a major car-rental company; Helen said it’s closely related to his MS in Engineering.

New Year’s Day entailed eating, napping and watching movies: So I Married an Axe Murderer (why the Silders giggled at my brother’s wedding due to the Best Man wearing a kilt) and Dazed n’ Confused (a suggestion I made to show everyone some of Austin’s geography). I mostly loved having more intelligent conversations with friends I missed thanks to my time in Illinois yet Austin was beginning to close the gap (Sonia, Doc and Gabe). How I didn’t want the time with these people to end though. I wasn’t sure when I’d get the chance to see them again, 1995 has been an aberration: I had visited the Silders three times for various functions while they resided in Chicago.

Jose and I pitched Orlando for New Year’s 1996-7 because Jose’s new house could accommodate more guests. I was a proponent of the warmer climate. This received a “maybe” from the majority.

On January 2 and 3, we said our goodbyes as the Silders took us to BWI. No matter what I was store for at Apple, Austin, Towers or life, I felt 1995 ended well and 1996 was off to a good start.

This became the first in a long line of lonely holiday streaks, the Nineties mostly sucked in this department. It was also my first in the adult world…no more four-week breaks, everybody still goes to work between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. What a bummer.

Fortunately, I did all the “celebrating” with my family earlier through graduation. They even received gifts from me too; I somehow scraped up the money to cover them and didn’t put any on my credit card.

Carrie always spent Christmas with her mother and sister in Illinois. This wasn’t any big loss, I had to work at the newspaper because sports never take a day off. So we went out for a nice dinner and exchanged gifts at my place. Carrie gave me the Star Wars trilogy on videotape which was awesome. My present to her was a microwave oven. It sounds lame initially yet it was 1990 and there was a rational explanation behind it. For some time she had been talking about buying one to keep in her room and the long-term plan was to use any cash she received for Christmas to cover it. Weeks earlier, I stumbled upon an electronics/appliances sale in downtown Milwaukee. Knowing what Carrie wanted, I withdrew money from the ATM to buy this great microwave oven with a carousel for 50 smackers. I was stoked for several weeks on how this was going to rock as I hid in my apartment. When she received it that evening, I could only hear the disappointment in her voice. I suppose Carrie had a model lined up and I ruined her plans. She apologized profusely sensing I was pretty hurt so we stopped talking about it for a while. Weeks later I was vindicated over my purchase as Carrie grew to like it. We ate many insta-meals and snacks the device cooked at her place, watching TV.

Christmas Day came and went. I don’t recall if I worked or not. I know I spent part of the time watching my new videotapes on Carrie’s VCR (she lent me her key, the other four roommates were accustomed to my presence) and breaking in the microwave with some frozen dish to stuff my face. Needless to say, I was glad to see Carrie return before New Year’s Eve.

The holiday I liked more had a small wrinkle, everybody at the paper was required to work. Before the BCS nonsense, many bowl games were lumped together. It made things hectic into the early evening. Matters wound down by 11 PM so I was allowed to cut out to meet Carrie in time to celebrate the countdown: a private little party at her apartment. She wanted to avoid the disappointment I caused last year with my aversion to wearing a more upscale outfit. Underemployment was going to become my official excuse for the next five months though.

Due to the year ending on such a bleak, gray and depressing note, I vowed to figure out a better plan for 1991. Once I had consistent work, I would spend Christmas Day at the movies to get away from the dreck. A rather shallow solution compared to spending it with friends or family but it made sense then. I figured my girlfriend Carrie and my new home of Milwaukee were going to remain the constants in my life. They were both eliminated by the Fall of 1991 so I at least followed through on the movie tradition promise by the following Christmas.

Of the four high-school holiday breaks, I still find it amazing that the best one I ever experienced was in Beulah, ND. I think it had more to do with me being a senior than the location. The two in Houston were plagued with boredom due to no close-by friends (the city was spread out) and Indianapolis was slightly better thanks to my part-time job; if I didn’t have company, I at least had some extra money. Small compensation for a teenager. Beulah’s was the best compromise of circumstances: I got to spend Christmas time in civilization and New Year’s with the friends I had at school.

Celebrating Christmas in Beulah would’ve been blasphemy for my mother’s side of the family so going to Bloomington was mandatory. Meanwhile, Mom had joined Dad and me around Halloween. I’m not sure what motivated her decision. Mom despised all things North Dakota more than me. Maybe she needed a break from living with my grandparents, she wanted to retrieve the cats or she wanted to be a complete killjoy. (Dad and I had a good arrangement; as long as my grades were great and he didn’t need to speak to an authority figure about me, we were cool.) Knowing Mom, she probably came to Beulah for all of the above.

The break kicked off on December 20, a Friday, the best starting point. We loaded up the Nissan and hauled ass when Dad got home from work. First stop, Bismarck to eat at this buffet joint we frequently visited any time we were in the “city.” Stuffing myself was a smart move, it put me out for the night. As if there is any scenery in North Dakota…in December…in the dark. Mom and Dad tagged team on the driving because I have no recollection of a hotel along the way.

We arrived at Grandma’s house by Saturday evening, unpacked our gear and settled in. Brian seemed to be doing well at his third high school Central Catholic. He played on the football team, he was fairly popular and he would be receiving his driver’s license in three months. I doubt he was thrilled to see me, his older, uncool brother. I was over blaming him for his part in my exile (I didn’t want to attend yet another Catholic prison of his choosing) yet I was indifferent to Brian. We most likely had a truce to get through the week.

The actual holiday of Christmas wasn’t very memorable. Gifts were exchanged, food was eaten, TV was watched, maybe we ducked out to see a movie, the “old people” played euchre, old shouting matches came up (somebody liked to cheat at cards) and so on. I’m confident I received clothes and money with extra helpings of nagging…college was on the horizon. I’m sure I gave everybody something back. It was a meaningless time away from the routine of school in my opinion.

There was one deviation from the monotony. Somebody spotted a mouse upstairs and we got it trapped on the stairs. This became an excellent opportunity to put our cats Teddy and Mewsette to work. Their mother Farrah never taught them how to hunt so the mouse was going to definitively answer the nature versus nurture argument. Mewsette caught the mouse first and then proceeded to bat the helpless creature around as if it were the ultimate toy! Grandpa cursed at her saying she was useless. I thought it was hilarious. Teddy jumped in on the action and he didn’t mess around. He bit the rodent immediately. To him, it wasn’t a toy, it was prey. We tried to get the dead mouse out of his mouth for disposal but Teddy demonstrated a vicious growl we had never heard before. Seems he had a taste for blood. Eventually, Teddy gave up the corpse and we carried on with the standard holiday drama. At least we proved to our grandparents that domestic city cats are natural-born mousers like their farm cousins.

As for the cash I received, the bulk was spent on enjoying the few luxuries of Bloomington-Normal: a gyro for dinner, a couple purchases at Adventureland, some time at the arcade near ISU and four albums from Apple Tree Records: Shabooh Shoobah by INXS, Prince Charming by Adam & the Ants and Time & Tide by Split Enz, the last one is a mystery yet I’m confident I have it on CD. None of these were new releases since the ones I really wanted I had covered, namely Songs from the Big Chair by Tears for Fears, or heard ad nauseum through Bismarck’s Top 40 radio station. My obsession on moving forward musically wouldn’t happen for another year. These acquisitions were more along the lines of building a solid foundation or back catalog to exemplify my tastes.

Returning to North Dakota came with a huge surprise. Either Dad didn’t tell me about it or I ignored him but we had to fly back which was something I had never done before. I was equally excited and terrified at this prospect. Why was I terrified? I’ve been afraid of heights since I was six and by the time I was 17, I had seen over a half-dozen airplane disaster flicks. Never mind the horrors I absorbed from reading about the real-life accidents, namely the DC-10 crash out of O’Hare in 1979, the airport we were starting from. I’m an advocate to getting children on a plane ASAP too. They’ll grow into calmer passengers instead of nervous spazzes like me. How I envy my nieces and nephews.

I guess Mom didn’t want to make the dull drive back alone or with Brian so we took a shuttle bus from Bloomington to O’Hare. It was the longest, most boring leg of our journey. Dad napped and I jammed to my newly acquired Walkman knockoff. We debarked at the O’Hare terminal to catch the Northwest flight to Minneapolis. Traveling during the Eighties was a thousand times easier. Security checks weren’t the ridiculous, useless pat downs they are now and carry-on luggage had a more liberal definition.

I was initially relaxed on the plane. The interior was certainly smaller than what I had seen in movies: this was a 727, most shows go with jumbo jets. Then the plane taxied down the runway, accelerated and lifted off at a steep angle. I started sweating. Great, I thought, it’s going to be similar to a long, long, frightening roller coaster ride. After we were a few hundred feet up, I heard the engines grow quieter. I prodded my Dad to alert him that we were probably going to splatter all over Cook County. He replied tersely about the crew following noise-reduction procedures due to the Interstate below. How glad I was to see he was right. Once we cleared I-94, the jet’s engines cranked up and we had a safe flight to Minneapolis-St. Paul.

Thankfully it was practically an up and down flight followed by a brisk walk through the airport to our connecting plane for another, longer trek to Bismarck. It must’ve cost some serious coin for Dad to buy a pair of one-way tickets to such an obscure destination.

At Bismarck, Dad had arrangements with a co-worker to give us a lift home. I was too relieved to be on the ground to mind the tight quarters in this guy’s minivan full of small kids and luggage.

Once we were back home, the real fun started. Firstly, I had programmed the VCR to snag three movies Showtime played while I was away: The Meaning of Life, Bachelor Party and Repo Man. With Mom in Bloomington, I could enjoy them sans her nagging over the nudity, F bombs and Catholic jokes. Secondly, I had about another week to kill before school and with Dad away at work, I cranked the volume on new record. Lastly, I spent hours hanging around with Mike, Jon and Darren playing Star Ace, Risk and whatever. I killed a couple evenings with the girlfriend too. I tend not to discuss Trish much since I have little idea whatever became of her once I graduated from high school.

New Year’s Eve was a modest get-together at Mike’s house. We played poker for pennies and thanks to The Flamingo Kid being on cable, Mike and I had developed a habit for playing Gin Rummy using Matt Dillon’s catchphrase of “Sweet Georgia Brown” when presenting a winning hand.

School was back in session the following week. My life resumed its routine once final exams concluded. However, the pressure was going to ratchet up: graduation in May, college applications to finish, acceptance/rejection letters and the biggest worry…how to pay for it. At least I got to put all my future troubles aside for two weeks and enjoy being a teenager even if Beulah was an adverse place.