A trip down memory lane

Oh, I'm so happy.  I found Theocracy Christmas music, for free.  Christian.  Metal.  Christmas music.  So perfect.  AAAH.  It's got me thinking about some assorted Christmases I've known. 

When I was a kid, guaranteed I WOULD get the flu around Christmas.  Every year.  It was pretty horrible.  And it would linger forever.  I always got pretty much anything I wanted, and a lot besides.  I think my favorite childhood gift (other than learning to crochet when I was 8), was a weaving loom. 

My adoptive Mom would cook the most delicious tidbits.  Little cheesecakes on a Nilla wafer.  Fudge.  Oh.  The fudge.  A huge dinner.  Special Christmas morning casserole.  Good times! 

We always had an artificial tree.  Dad would argue, every year, it was in perfectly good shape, so why buy a real tree?  So, the memory of "Dad taking the disassembled Christmas tree out of the attic, and assembling it" is another happy memory. 

I remember when I figured Santa out - and Mom begged me not to tell my little brother, who still had a couple years left.  I didn't. 

In my late teens, I started getting horrible Christmas depressions on top of the flu.  1991 was a memorable, miserable,  year.  I started getting sick on the last day of school  We had elderly family visiting, so I was banished to my bedroom for the duration.  I had no appetite (that always used to bother Mom), and I remember slowly picking apart and orange, and eating it, as I read a book from high school English (a Jack London/Mark Twain anthology).  Mom kept heating up the same bowl of chicken soup, wondering when I'd get my appetite back! 

Christmas 1992 - I had run off with Ron.  We were living in a poorly converted garage apartment.  I had Mono!  Ron felt terrible because he couldn't afford a present, and was happy when he won a raffle at the vocational school.  They taught him computers, and did a fine job. 

Every year I worked retail (another couple years), I always got sick!  Always depressed!  I was pretty far from God so for me it was about presents.  Ron got a part time job in 1994 to supplement his check, so he liked to get me things I wanted (books, etc). 

In 1998, I was working at office jobs, thanks to Ron, who'd taught me computers.  I already know Mac, but Ron taught me DOS (remember "Bad command or file name?"), and I learned more as I went along. 

I had gotten a job at a company.  We'll call it Fredco.  Sorry, if there is a real Fredco. 

Anyway, the Fredco employees were very ambitious.  I'm not.  To me, money's always been a way to pay the bills, nothing more.  It's a very useful tool but I'm not making it my god. 

Money, was God, at Fredco.  We had a pretty big conflict right there.  Even before Ron's accident, I tried to focus on what matters: quality time with those you love. 

I listened to country music at the time.  Seems funny now.  I DREAMED of moving to Texas, a little house, and a garden!  Yay!  I did it!  They wanted money, money, money.  Oh, and love too. 

I had no problem showing up and putting in a good day's work.  I was working 12 hour days with the commute, in the winter, so every minute of daylight, I was chained to my desk.  I always tried to get out during lunch and soak up some sun. 

I had my first Red Bull then.  Boy, it was vile.  I tried, and failed, to like coffee.  I just couldn't.  I'm more of a hot milk kind of gal. 

I was horrified when I left my ATM card in the machine, by accident (since then, I have witnessed several normal people do just that, and always make sure they get their card back).  The guy in line behind me punched "another transaction" and stole $240, which was later returned (they got the camera footage and I signed an affadavit).  I made the mistake of sharing this at work, and got a lot of verbal abuse about my "stupidity". 

I thought that was completely unkind.  I already felt terrible.  How is yelling at me - and I lost my money, not theirs - going to help? 

Anyway, we had some value differences, but I didn't think much of it until the day after Thanksgiving.  Before I was robbed, I had bought a small Christmas tree and a string of lights.  I got a garland, and set up my tree at work. 

People LOVED it.  They would come and stand by my desk, talking, and complimenting my little tree. 

My boss came by and ordered me to take it down.  I said, everyone likes it.  She said, the building owner is Jewish.  I told her, but he just complimented the tree.  He likes it. 

Besides, I added, I didn't have anything religious on the tree.  I could see a problem if I had Bible Verse ornaments or a nativity.  I told her, I wouldn't do it. 

A week later, I got canned, and the tree and I had to wait outside for an hour, on the shuttle.  That was an awful day.  I had to figure out how I'd tell Ron. 

He came home and greeted me.  I started crying.   Ron panicked.  "What's wrong?"  I kept sobbing.  Ron always worried his vastectomy would fail one day: "Are you pregnant?"  No.  "Did you get fired?"  I began wailing.  He patted me consolingly and told me it would be OK, he wasn't mad. 

So, for that Christmas I took 2 weeks off (Ron insisted), even more depressed than usual, staring at my little Christmas tree, every day.  Probably the worst Christmas ever. 

Well, I wasn't sick that year.  Once New Year hit, I applied for, and won, unemployement, but I only needed 3 checks (even with my disabilities!).  I embarked on a serious job hunt; and then won a job at the sister agency to Ron's.  They liked the idea of "keeping it in the family" and all had been told.  Nepotistm.  I love nepotism - it's kept me employed for over 13 years (seeing as I am married to my boss). 

1999 was interesting, we went to visit Ron's family, and enjoyed Houston.  It was lovely and warm.  Ron made his brother roll down the windows and we savored the fresh air.  I took some echinacea prior to our flights,  Ron did not.  He also smoked a cigarette after he'd had a few beers, with his brother. 

Ron was a petri dish, just waiting to incubate.  He got horribly ill.  There he is, feverish, coughing up blood (he had the flu and pneumonia) and we lived about a mile from the hospital.  He refused to call a cab, "I don't want to get the driver sick!"  I could understand, so we walked, very slowly, to the hospital.  I wish I'd had a wheelchair. 

The doctor examined Ron, diagnosed him, said "I'd love to admit him but we're full" told me I'd make a good nurse, keep him hydrated, wrote prescriptions, and sent us home.  So, I brought in Y2K nursing Ron!  [laugh] 

By Christmas 2000, we had landed in Houston.  We were thrilled, because Ron had been accepted to the blind vendor program.  I also had a good job with a company that respected me.  They knew I'd be quitting in July to work for Ron and figured I was cheaper than a temp.  We did alright. 

Christmas 2001 and 2 were awful; trying to run two business, drowning in a sea of red ink.  I was manic, and one year I got some nice CZ earrings for "the girls".  They loved them.  I wonder if they still have them. 

Christmas 2003, Ron was still recovering from his accident and we were back at work, trying to figure how we'd cope. 

2004 - we had the house!  Yay! 

2006 was awesome, as my first MEDICATED Christmas! 

And here we are, Christmas 2011.  Well, not yet. 

I hope you enjoyed my trip down memory lane.