Childhood Memories (Installment #3: Chrstmas)

Ahhh, to be home at 118 E. Pasadena Rd. The peanut butter balls are just a pudgy arm's-length away; the ham grizzle/pork loin rests in its grease-ridden, braising pan; and Emily's famous, extra-lard-laden bread beckons me like smack does to a new junkie.

We finished dinner and after the usual, Rickman/Johnson conversation, began beating each other with anything we could get our hands on. Auntie did something completely out of character for the Christmas season; she removed her lower partials and proceeded to stomp them into dust. Becky Jo grabbed the antique candle snuffer and commenced to smash the rescued, animal shelter dog, T-Boy, about the paws and face.

Tommy, having barely recovered from life altering surgery, had enough of the yule tide and danced about as he doused the dining room drapes with 12 year old Scotch. He laughed; his head thrown back with tiny beads of sweat and phlegm glowing under his nose. Then the whole house went up.



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