Calm and Bright - 12/11/09

So,

  I pick up Joe College yesterday for a whole month of fussing at home over her.  Her favorite potato soup was made, she ate until she had a tummy ache, poor lamb.  I imagine it is either rank gluttony, or the body's gradual adjustment away from dorm fare.

    We check the Advent calendar(s), and discover that Christmas is pretty damned nigh.  Shitfire.  No money, no spirit, no energy to even decorate the damn 50 degree house.  If I wait long enough, the spirit and/or decorating will take care of itself in the spontaneous formation of icicles.  Yessss.

    Chief, meanwhile, never stops plotting and planning odd things.  It is not only past time for a tree, but the Annual Sanders Christmas Card Photo is so overdue.  We start tossing around ideas, much to the..NOT delight of The Girls.  I like Chief's first suggestion : to go to Home Depot (where they push all trees thru a contraption and, like, enrobe them in netting for easy travel) and wrap him in netting like he is a big tree.  I instantly warm to the idea a bit (subsequently warming the house a bit - bonus!!) - and start wondering : will they allow it (he assures me that a big enough tip will make any holiday temp worker look the other way), can we just wrap him up without running him through the machine, would it look better with his hands stretched over his head or by his sides like a little tin soldier...

  Sparky alludes that this is "ri-Goddamn-diculous". Missy is apoplectic (it makes no sense, it's crazy, who would ever even think of something like that, there is something wrong with you).  We grab the camera, wait for Missy to choose the right shoes (boots or white Converse ?) and for Sparky to 'de-lesbian " her hair ( ? ) - and off we go.

   So, we decide to panic, since there is not time to buy a tree, and our favorite discount tree lot (FloorCraft in the Bayshore) is...closed.  Every other tree lot in town charges way too much, so we begrudgingly head out to Home Depot and hope that no one sees us enter or leave.

   The tree part of the store is roofless, which we find cool - but they only have the kind of tree that we hate (the stick-ish noble fir) .  I linger longer than I should by the tree-wrapping machine, and finger the netting thoughtfully.  Then, cold (no roof) and sad (ugly trees) - we time-wastingly enter The Depot - lured in  by shiny balls and inappropriately-large holiday inflatables.

    It is like an oversized psychotic winter wonderland: Santas, snowmen, Rudolphs - all a minimum of 15 feet tall : plastic, tinsel, "soft glitter", snug villages, sleighs, ugly wooden shit, and hundreds of clear boxes of huge colorful ornies.  One snowman has fallen over and is crushing a small village : I can almost hear the tiny screaming as Missy gleefully takes a picture with her phone.  

    The wheels start to turn in my head - and my first thought is that we need to take cover.  The backside of this immense display is hidden from the rest of the store - but all the front-facing decor and joy that would be good to pose with is facing the other way.  Dang. Okay - necessity being the mother of invention and all....  

      Sparky, unbidden, starts loading up a cart with hundreds of fancy decorations for a possible photo.  I tell her "where were you when you were a baby ?  You guys in the cart with all that stuff would've been adorable !" 

       Our first stop is near some shelving which is chock-a-block with the afore-mentioned large colored ball boxes.  Boxes and boxes - 6 deep.  I immediately envision my offspring sitting and lying on these store shelves - cozily surrounded by ornaments.  I roll up my sleeves,and start tossing boxes and stacking - hissing for Sparky (who will usually do anything) to climb on the shelf.  I say  : "It's a Home Depot shelf fer Chrissakes - it's made to be sturdy - get up there, quick !"  I decide that she should be on a shelf : feet back to the wall, head sticking out and cradling her little Christmas head as she peeks out.  Missy's place will be on the very bottom shelf, crouched whimsically.  

      As Sparky gamely starts to climb among the ornament boxes, Missy (party pooper) is backing away, looking appalled and mumbling disbelief and saying things like : "MOM !  This is too crazy, even for you !  I am NOT doing anything of the kind.  I am 18, you can't make me."  I gently remind here that, in her deepest heart of hearts, she knows now who Santa is and he is not only watching but expecting her to pose for this picture...

   Knowing that Sparky is now a given, I start a system of quick movements, mindless chattering, subterfuge - and other flim-flamming that I employ when trying to manipulate a "tough crowd".  I have moved down the aisle, toward the fallen snowman (who I instantly right so he can be sat under by teenagers). Chief, camera in hand and knowing me for 34 years and knowing his part (s) - instantly starts moving boxes around and stacking cases of pretty Christmas wrap all around.  Good man, that one.  Mind you, the whole time, there is a veritable cacophony of hissing, giggling, teen outrage, and my insistent voice whisper-yelling things like "Come on !  Shoosh now !  Can we just do this ?"

 wrapping paper.  Missy stands there, grimacing and freaking out : "I absolutely refuse to do this, I want to go back to college are we near a train station, if I pay $50/day to live in the dorms over Christmas, that's my whole savings, Mom

 (aside: why me?) I can't believe you."  Everyone (except me) keeps saying we're going to get caught/get in trouble.  In for a dime, in for a dollar : the only way we'll get caught is if you girls don't do as you're told.

   Chief snaps away, like a real photo shoot.  The Models smile gamely (although I'm thinking we can't use the one where Missy is miming shooting herself in the head).  I am darting all around the shoot,  getting yelled at for "being in the wide shots".  I get yelled at constantly, as Sparky is certain there will be breakage.  I bravely grab a big old Nutcracker (the most hideous and Satanic of all Yule decor, second only to the creepy, homeless-looking "Old World Santa").  The shooter calls for "more ornaments - quickly !" 

 I scamper over to the original shelf, and, what ho ! I spy cylindrical stacking packs of ornaments !  Eggs-cellent !

     I run them over to a group chorus of : NO !!  These are apparent;y inappropriate.  Whatevs.  It is hell being the shot designer.  I slam them down on some fake show, and run back for more boxes.  I deliver, and get behind Chief so I can make the Nutcracker pop over his shoulder.  How funny is that ?

   Uh oh - what's this ?!  It's A MAN and he's coming back to see what we are doing.  I assume (as do the others) that he is an employee and we are SO about to get busted and then some.  We have made a shit-mess of this department, all in the name of a Christmas photo.  In unison, and without planning, we do the only thing we can : we totally ignore him and refuse to look his way.  Daddy keeps snapping.  (There is a big part of me that believes 2 things  : a) if you stand very still, people cannot see you and b) if you have sunglasses on, people cannot see you.  It's worked so far...).  Finally he speaks, softly " "Well, that's an interesting idea."  He departs - just another customer.  Whew.

     Finally, Missy can take no more.  We wrap up the shoot, and I make a feeble attempt at replacing some of the props.  If we linger too long, we will likely have some 'splainin' to do, Lucy.  We sky up outta there, giggling, through the roofless Garden Center (still cool).  The camera is loaded with about 20 pictures, one of which we sincerely make it to the finals.

    FYI : other ideas include : a) setting up the silver Christmas tree in Golden Gate park for a groovy juxtaposition of flash and flora and b) the all-pink and frosty Barbie Christmas tree on the beach in a storm.