Single in Sandpoint: Scarlette vs. December: The Winter Snow-down.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009 December, we meet again.
Each year I vow to take you down. I research your weak points. I consult ancient texts. But this year I discovered that, apparently, the only way to conquer your endless lines, snow, incessantly cheery music, soggy socks, cookie exchanges, white elephant gifts and heinous accessories is with organization, preparation and a flask full of very hard liquor.
In the months leading up to December I was ready for the battle royale, and this time I’d be ready. I found I wasn't really stressing out about “The Holidays,” and I have no idea why. I wasn't curled in the fetal position on my bedroom floor, begging with the Lord himself to please, just this once, let’s skip December.
No, this year I had high hopes. I’d try to do impossible things like bake cookies and buy presents in real stores (not online). I would be so good at it my friends and family would be like, "Dude, Scarlette has totally turned over a domestic leaf, she can cook, and these are the pickle-shaped salt and pepper shakers that I've always wanted."
Yes, it would be glorious. December would just skulk off, defeated. That was my visualization. But when the bell rang, boy oh boy did December come out swinging.
Round One:
We got the tree. The one the whole family went searching in the woods for. The perfect tree. Before I knew it I was riding around in the mountains in 7 degree weather, clutching hot chocolate and wondering what kind of a person buys a 2-wheel drive truck.
My husband pulled over next an area with a bunch of "Christmassy looking" trees, and I said something like, “This tree is nice.” Then I went off searching in the woods for a tree that wasn't just nice; I wanted a tree that was PERFECT.
Less than 30 feet from the car, or about 45 seconds later, I heard the sound of a chainsaw. Oh, no he didn't. Was he really cutting down that nice tree? I didn't say to cut that one down. I just said it was nice.
Upon further investigation, I found that, yes – that was exactly what he was doing. By the time I arrived back at the truck, the tree had already been felled.
"Why did you cut down that tree?" I asked.
"Because you said you liked it," he shrugged.
"NO, I did not say I liked it; I said it was nice," I hissed.
"Fine, we'll just leave it here and find another," was his brilliant answer.
Now, I’m not the kind of person who feels comfortable cutting down a tree and discarding it. I felt like all those jerks in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" – the tree wasn't perfect, sure, but maybe all it needed was a little love.
Well, we got the tree back home and it needed to be trimmed down by about 4 feet, and I'm pretty sure those were the 4 feet that were "nice." All the love in the world wasn't going to make it a show-stopper. In fact, after the tree sat in the corner of the room – mocking me – for about a week, even our dog decided he hated it. After I left to go run an errand, the dog did it’s best to undress the poor thing, eating an entire strand of lights and taking a few ornaments off just for good measure.
Round one goes to DECEMBER..
Round Two:
A couple of days after the dog-on-pine violence, I was sitting comfortably with my half-naked tree when I saw on the news that Sarah Palin was coming to town.
I’d wondered why the weather was so cold and the sun hadn't been out for days; then I knew why. Oh, December, you cagey little devil you – you thought you could scare me with Sarah Palin?
I knew immediately that I had to be a part of this Sarah Palin fiasco, even if it was the last thing I ever did. I wanted to see her, look her straight in the eye, and ask her to sign my Levi Johnston issue of Playgirl.
That’s just how I roll, folks.
Sadly, though not unsurprising, Mrs. Palin wasn't in town to sign autographs or answer questions, she was here to sell a book. If you didn't have a copy, or your copy wasn’t purchased at Vanderford’s, you weren't going to get any face time.
As a member of the media I had access to photograph her for 15 minutes, but other than that, nothing. My Playgirl sits today, still unsigned.
Regardless, here's the deal: I'm not going to “go rogue,” not now, not ever. I expected to see a spectacle and I did. I saw a line in which hundreds and hundreds of people waited for hours just to be in the presence of a former-maybe-vice president and ex-half-term governor. I saw people in camouflage, people with pictures of their latest kill taped to their shirts, some of my family members, and even the racist guy that haunts my favorite coffee shop (SPR XX/XX/XX). I saw them all.
Her tour bus befitted a rock star, with a giant portrait of herself on the side and a moose antler hanging in the front window. Her groupies were lined up and ready to do whatever conservative Christian groupies do.
Now, normally, I don't frequent places that have very high concentrations of extreme conservatives; December threw this at me knowing I can never pass up a celebrity sighting – EVEN, maybe especially, if I don't even like the celebrity. December was trying to get me killed.
I locked eyes with ex-Governor Palin just once. She had just said “I love your jacket” to a nearby woman who was wearing a faux fur cheetah print vest. I made a little noise, like a snort, and she looked straight at me. I looked back at her. What was there to say? We both knew that she’d just lied to that lady, and we also both knew that woman would probably be wearing that vest and buying identical pairs for all her friends. Since there’s a high probability that none of them believe in birth control, we may be seeing that vest handed down to grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren for the next century. At least.
After my stare-down with “The Barracuda” I got a little scared, so I started singing a little carol I’d made up for just such a moment (sung to the tune of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”):
She's written a book, it's got a high price,
She's gonna’ give out some Christian ad-vice
Sarah Palin’s com-iiing to town.
She kills things when their sleeping,
She knows my motives are fake.
She knows I didn't vote for her,
I best get out for my own sake.
Round two goes to SCARLETTE (extra points for not getting flogged or converted).
Round 3:
So, I'm in the shower, in my new house. My new house is in town and my old house was in a forest, so I'm not used to people just dropping by for the hell of it. To make matters worse, I was showering at a strange time of day – my kids had a Christmas sing-song spectacular that I had to attend, and I wanted to look like a normal person with brushed hair and pants on. Real pants, mind you, not the sweat kind.
I hopped out of the shower and started to dry off. At that point it dawned on me that the perfect shirt I wanted to wear was in the living room with the rest of the newly folded laundry. I put the towel around my head and streaked out to the living room. I had the shirt halfway over my head when I heard knocking. A different kind of knocking. Window knocking, not door knocking.
To my utter and all-consuming horror, the Fed-Ex man was staring through my window and I was wearing nothing but a turtleneck.
I grabbed a towel off the laundry stack, wrapped it around my waist and answered the door under the impression he’d leave like a normal person – you know, like someone who’d just seen a total stranger half naked in their own home.
NO. He made me SIGN FOR THE PACKAGE. Talk about awkward. I had to take a package and sign for it while standing in a hastily-wrapped towel skirt – a towel skirt that the delivery man had watched me put on.
Perhaps this is the point in the column where I should mention that it’s actually less treacherous to shop in a mall than online; no delivery people are just waiting for you to do a nude lap around your house.
Round three: This is a tough call, but I think the only winner here is the FED-EX GUY.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL, AND JUST SO YOU KNOW, I'M NOT TAPPING OUT YET!!!!
Scarlette Quille
Reader Comments (8)
I'm glad you didn't lose your towel skirt trying to sign for that package!
I LOVE this post ... absolutely hilarious, the whole thing, I just have to say wow, what a great job on this thing!
Thanks guys!!!
You will be converted!! You looked into Palins eyes now you will be a conservative for sure. Give it time....Give it time....
Scarlette, you're one hell of a writer. Thank you for your sarcastic view on life. Without it, I'd think I was the only one who was going crazy in a world gone commercial.
That was great! And there's still 2 weeks of December left. Kick it's ass!
I don't give December that much chance. This is yet another year I got out of even having to put a tree up. Best reason for having a small living room.
Off to check for job openings at FED-EX
But...were you related to the FedEx guy?!?! :O)
I'm not related to any of the FED EX guys.
So I guess I dodged a bullet on that one.