Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Merry Christmas
and have yourself a frolicking good time
By Ann Ipock December
15, 2004
Reindeer. Lights. Bows. Douglas fir. Eggnog. Parties. Carols. Dollar General.
That’s right, Dollar General. What do all of these things have in
common, this being the second full week in December?
How about “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!”
Some signs actually materialized in October.
Speaking of reindeer, Kelly, our daughter, has been seeing lots of deer
in the yard of their new home and elsewhere, which is located in a heavily
wooded subdivision in Raleigh. Apparently, Bambi ate an entire flat of
pansies overnight that Kelly had just planted. While telling me this on
the phone recently, she said, “Mom! You’re not going to believe
this — but — I see a deer in our front yard right now. He
is actually staring back at me!”
Excitedly, I said, “Now what is he doing?” You know how she
answered? “Oh my gosh. He is frolicking!” I am not making
this up. NOBODY says “frolicking.” How did she ever hear of
that word? Oh, I know! She teaches kindergarten and it’s printed
in children’s books.
Now y’all, I know what the word means, but just to be sure, I looked
it up in Webster’s Dictionary and it read, “to make merrily
or play about boisterously.” OK?
In that regard, I guess you could say I was frolicking earlier today on
the beach. I took advantage of that balmy, warm weather, which arrives
intermittently every December. (I can remember in years past, my Mama,
up North — in North Carolina — cooked a turkey in her shorts
on Christmas Day.)
So, I walked/frolicked on the beach about an hour and found myself drenched
in sweat — not to mention a slight tan line from my tank top and
gym shorts. But, hey, I’m not complaining.
On the other hand, this temperature extreme can cause problems. How can
we women wear our fancy frou-frou Christmas sweaters and vests when the
temperature outside peaks at 75 degrees? We can’t.
All the feathers and fur, gold thread and sparkly gemstones, embroidered
stars and Santas just have to fight it out with our fall khakis, rust
knits and brown suedes. I told this story to Edith and Frances Morris
today, adding that I was considering wearing only my Christmas vest —
without the turtleneck — to a church program tonight (but, of course,
with my black slacks). Frances’ face took on a worried look and
he whispered, “Exactly where is this going to occur?”
In fact, later, we did indeed attend that exquisite “A Down Home
UPTOWN Christmas” program at Pawleys Island Community Church and
I wore my Christmas sweater instead. The one with the white feather Santa
that sheds, sending bird parts fluttering and flying across the room,
causing me to flap my arms LIKE A BIRD!
Tonight Russell, my husband, and I we were sitting at the table when suddenly
I felt something — perhaps a gnat? — fly up my nose. I panicked;
sneezing and coughing and sputtering. But it turned out to be a feather!
(Or “flither” as Katie, our daughter, called it, when she
was very young.) It was not a pretty sight, but it did cause some frolicking
— as in ‘merriment’ — at our table of eight, including
Dianne and Tim Smith and other friends.
Yesterday was warm too, but I was able to wear my black velvet top with
the fur collar that doesn’t shed. But another “Ann moment”
occurred there as well. I was having lunch and accidentally flipped a
square of cake into my lap, which caused an instant bonding between the
thick red raspberry topping and my swirly red silk and black velvet pants.
I’m glad this was AFTER I had delivered my one-woman performance
at Wachesaw’s Kimbel’s Restaurant, or I would have looked
ridiculous. (I didn’t — did I?)
I’ve prepared for Christmas early this year as I‘m having
surgery in mid-December. I’ve spent what seems like a couple of
HUNDRED dollars in Dollar General. I’m waiting for some smart aleck
to open a Penny General.
Madison, our perfectly adorable 3-year-old granddaughter, absolutely loves
this store. For some reason she calls it Dollar General Loaf. We can’t
figure out why, but between Madison’s “loaf” and Kelly’s
“frolicking “ — I’m wondering what’s next.
The other bulk of my Christmas expenditure has been at Tuesday Morning.
Chances are you saw me in there repeatedly filling buggies with ornaments,
candles, bath salts, wrapping paper, etc.
And yes, I’ve been in CVS aplenty. But that scary plastic three-foot
Santa at the entrance frazzles my nerves with his unexpected, loud “Ho-ho-ho!”
when I pass by him by. It’s voice-activated by motion. I told this
to Russell, who seemed skeptical. Then Russell walked past Santa last
night and sure enough, nothing happened. Hmmm ….What’s wrong
with this picture?
I’m nearly through shopping and decorating. I’ve gone “all
out” (with our children arriving soon) nearly straining my GOOZLE
— now that’s a Southern word — stretching, stooping
and shimmying, while attaching all the ornaments to the tree, which Russell
puts up for me every year. As always, all the lights worked when Russell
“tested” them; then that one sorry strand went out AFTER snaking
them through the tree.
“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hope that
St. Nicholas soon will be there,” to quote Clement C. Moore. I even
displayed my vast collection of nutcrackers. I decorated the pale yellow
chandelier in the breakfast nook with red Christmas balls and tulle. I
put out my Mexican nativity set on the mantle and my two toy soldiers
on the porch. Yep. I believe I’m ready. Just a trip to Piggly Wiggly
to buy a bag of Hershey’s kisses, some mixed nuts in the shell,
and a few oranges for stocking stuffers — the tradition I grew up
with.
So, let me end with this: My wish for all of you dear readers, friends
and family is to have a very Merry Christmas! And be sure to have yourself
a FROLICKING good time!