It’s A Miracle We Even Survived; Christmas 70’s Style.

I originally wrote and shared this post in 2010. I was thinking about this post when I wrote the Santa one this past week, (and then my second Santa post!) then my friend Kari found and read it while looking for info on my brother Mark (but not in that stalker-ey way) so I’m re-blogging it because frankly, it cracked ME up and I wrote it. I recall that when I shared this, my Mom died laughing too. Just to be clear, The cancer killed her, not my witty-as-hell blog post.

My Brother and I certainly were not spoiled or even overly-attended-to children. I can’t say we were abused or neglected. But maybe there’s a version of that: Neglect Light? Unattended But Loved? Raise Yourselves, I’m tired? But it all changed when Christmas came. Along with Santa, came my Grandparents {my Dad’s parents} they loaded up their car in Miami with as many games & toys as they could fit in their trunk and back seat and spent each Christmas with Mark and I. Mind you, my parents were divorced and they chose to spend Christmas with my Mom, their ex daughter in law; they adored my Mom, Mark (of course Mark!) & I. Those few days of attention and fun were what we craved terribly.

One year I recall them opening the trunk and all I saw were two huge plastic garbage cans with lids on them. They were so clever, they knew my Mom needed new cans and inside them were all of our wrapped gifts. That takes Oscar the Grouch to another level.

My very first Christmas. I looked a little scared, but I had no idea what was to come in the future. I should have climbed back into Beverly’s lady kitchen and hunkered down because these people might be insane. And in case you’re wondering, no, we didn’t want ANY ONE else to have tinsel, we we took it all.

I must have been around 4 here. G’ma is trying to help Mark and I find our way through the bazillion gifts; I am lost, confused, and beginning to go into shock.  It looks like 12 kids live here. Also, being a NOT spoiled child, I was gifted a rescue siamese kitten this year, she’s on the rocking chair. Chrissy; oh I adored her. She was my constant companion until her untimely death 7 years later. We really can’t have nice things.


Please note the fire safety hazards: The brown electric heater in front of the fireplace loaded with paper, a bottle of whisky and the ashtray filled to high heaven on the coffee table. I’m certain there was a can of gas lurking under the couch. 

Mark and I Christmas Eve {Suz 6?} That is my G’pa in the background; gosh, I loved him so much. I bet you a million dollars he was playing solitaire and smoking cigarettes in one of those weird filter thingys.

Christmas Mark and Suz

Now, look at that tree above again. Is it just me or does it look like Helen Keller was in charge of the garland application?

Christmas morning: Mark has bed head and I look perfect. Probably because I didn’t sleep all night; when the adults were knee deep into the rum balls I found a liter of coke in the kitchen and consumed it. The liquid soda! I didn’t do real coke until 4th grade. KIDDING. I’m holding my doll Cindy.  Right now Cindy is in my hall closet wearing a one-shoulder nightgown and suffering from a severely bad haircut, thanks to my Brother. Pogo Sticks: because breaking your ankles should be more action packed. Check out the typewriter on the floor, it had windows 5.

Christmas Mark and Suz 2

When I got older, there were fewer gifts. Heck, I was not even allowed to open this ONE gift without performing first. I look traumatized, whose idea was this? BTW: This was in the haunted AF townhouse.


I am guessing this is a wrapped bottle of Jim Beam.  Thanks Mom.

My how times have changed. There is no smoking, electric heaters or tinsel at our house, but my girls will each get a box of wine this year along with bedazzled/personalized shanks.

Ok, maybe it has not changed that much.


Say It Isn’t So! Another Santa/Silly/Serendipity/Shenanigan Moment?

So, my silly Santa post from Wednesday. Wasn’t that a hoot? *she says as she slaps her knee like it’s 1942*

Back in the olden days when the pan-freaking-demic started I was on a mission to organize and downsize my boxes of photos. I found and I began to go through boxes and boxes of old photos to send to them for the scanning process. Could I have done all this myself on my janky scanner/fax/printer? Yes. But it would have taken all of 2020 and I had puzzles to do and cholesterol numbers to raise.

A few months later when my boxes came back with my little thumb drives and a cd/DVD disc, there was also a small pile of pics that were marked TOO THICK to scan. Hey, listen, I’m trying to lose weight so get off my back about my thickness.

It was my intention to scan this small pile of pics myself at some point, but I think we all know what happened. They sat ON TOP of my printer for 3 months. Yesterday I grabbed the pile to scan and just three pictures in I found GOLD! *she shouts to no one in particular*

Do you remember the stoned/creepy looking Santa? Well, Coach also SAT ON HIS LAP THE SAME YEAR! Turns out we crossed santas paths two years in a row. I mean, can it be more obvious that he had a thing for me? Coach, not Santa. Please Lawd NOT SANTA!

So, lets recap.

1969 first stalking.

Suz makes a production, but the Coach might still be interested; he’s up for a challenge.

Second stalking 1970.

Suzanne is now acting properly (bribery does work) and the Coach has his Santa list with him. Guess what was on his list: FIND A WIFE WHO CAN BE BRIBED.

I think Santa was two sheets to the wind for Mark and I, but had cleaned up his act or it was too early when Coach and my future BIL visited him. I’m was kind of pissed that I didn’t get to bring my Santa List, but also pleased that I still got my Barbie Dream home because I didn’t even know how to write at this point, so, what list?

Oh my goodness. This was fun for me. I’ve got another Christmas from the past post for next week that I think you’ll enjoy. I mean, if you enjoy seeing my insane childhood, realizing I could be much more insane than I am, well, then you’ll enjoy it.

Have a great weekend! XOXO

Santa Is Out Of The Closet Or Was That My Brother? And My Life As The Ugly One.

Literally, yesterday I took him out of the closet where he resides. Voila; it’s Christmas y’all!

I was digging in a box looking for some generic Christmas cards for Christmas $ tips and I stumbled upon some gems that I don’t think I shared on ye ole blog.

Mark and Suzanne 1968.

Did I ever tell you that as a child I was either told directly or overheard people talking about how beautiful my brother Mark was as an infant/child. All.the.damn time. Perhaps it was mostly my Grandma, who wasn’t born with a filter and I DO know she adored me, but apparently she couldn’t bear to look at me after seeing my Brother’s perfect angelic face. And that Santa up there? He was not going to open his eyes and take a chance on looking at my hideous face either.

Seriously though, this never bothered me. That’s why I’m dedicating this entire post to my Angelic and beautiful, beloved Mark. May he Rest In Peace knowing he was the pretty one. If I heard it once, I heard it 497 times.


Ok. Maybe I just had too many feelings; Suzanne making a production about wanting a different flavor of free Santa Candy. And lookie there, Angel Mark, just smiling knowing he was the better looking child.

This year, I was given the ultimatum: Act right, smile like a good girl and Santa will make all your dreams come true even though you’re not as pretty as Mark. I have a feeling that Santa hit the ole peace pipe right before we stepped into line. Hey, what’s that smell? Skunks? But hey, I got my damn Barbie dream house, so I didn’t care what he was smoking. You know, in 2020 Santa would be locked up for the touching of small children & not wearing a mask, but not what he was smoking. Times.have.changed.

BTW: Mark totally took my Barbie dream house, redecorated it and gave me his G.I. Joe camping set while trying to convince me they were the same thing. He was way more into Barbie’s than Boy toys.

This is neither Mark or Ugly Suzanne. This is Little Coach when he was around 4 years old! How cute is he? Looking damn angelic himself. What is it with the men in my life, always trying to outshine me?

Fun fact. Coach and I grew up in the same town on the East Coast of FL. He lived there from around age 2 or 3 until he and I moved away as adults. I lived in this town from birth until age 12, then I moved to GA for a few years and then was back in the same town in Florida at 15. (Georgia kicked my ass out, but I’m back baby!) We didn’t actually meet until the summer after I graduated from High School even though we lived close and were in the same High School for 1/2 a year. (it was a huge school)

Do you believe in serendipity?

Tell me when you see it.

I’ll wait.

Still waiting.

Do you see it now?

There was only one mall in our town. That is the same darn Santa and the same darn year. I laughed when I found this and the Coach said, yeah, I remember seeing you and saying I’m gonna tap that in a few years.

I laughed so hard. I know it’s not the craziest kind of serendipity, but it’s the only kind this hideous looking girl has.

I hope you laughed at my hideousness Santa antics today. Do you have any wonderful ‘sitting on Santa’s lap’ memories? I mean, if they’re the kind you can share on this PG blog.