all about the box

I got a really nice email this morning, and in it a compliment about my writing...I was flattered, and humbled.  I share because I need to process things for myself and because on some level I feel like I am doing something more than just taking up space.  If I am contributing I am not a failure.  I'm not curing cancer, or saving lives, but if I make someone laugh, or I help someone not feel alone, then at least I can feel some sense of accomplishment.  Getting positive feedback motivates me to write more, which ultimately helps me.  So thank you readers, for helping me feel whole, and because you requested I re-run this one, here ya go:  The Christmas of the Box.

July '08
Wow, I have actually been so busy the last few days I haven't been able to write...I actually had to work at work...imagine that.

So, on Thursday, I had to sit through a class on transporting hazardous goods...fun and games right? Well the instructor thought so.  He thought it was THE most exciting and interesting stuff EVER, the rest of us...not so much.  It did, however, make me remember this past Christmas, and I must share.

See, the instructor kept using the word BOX whenever he was referring to any kind of package at all; I swear he said it 52 times in the first few minutes. My mind can't help but veer off the straight and narrow, right into a ditch in naughty land, so I sat there thinking about the safe handling and transporting of vaginae, and my baby brother, and somehow managed NOT to laugh out loud.

I'll explain. 

December of last year, Smash, J, JJ and Boo are coming down to our house to celebrate Christmas...my parents decide they are going to just ship "all our presents" to my house. Every day for a week they call to ask if we "got the box?" and since I usually only talk to mom OR dad once or twice a month I figured this was one HELL of a box, with LOTS of good shit. About 4 days before Christmas we get THE BOX...it's about the size of a shoebox and it's drop shipped from Harry & David...WTF? This can't be it, this had to be an additional box, THE box must be late.

I call mom.

me: "hey there, got a box of somethin' from Harry & David"
mom: "OOOH GOOOD, you got your Christmas presents then"
me: "ummmm, ok, yeah, are they ALL in there, for EVERYONE?"
mom: "yes, yes, and don't open them until Smash and the boys get there"
me: "oh, ok, great...thanks so much!"

Meanwhile I am thinking, "its food, gourmet food, we have a 2, 4, and 6 yr old and it's Christmas - what is that?"

Smash, J, JJ & Boo arrive...I present the box. Smash starts laughing, J is wondering what the hell is so funny and the kids are maniacs because, of course, they think the box is filled with great stuff.  We open the box...inside the box is:

MORE BOXES...kid you not.

Five red boxes of assorted size, each one containing some heinous little food with a designer label.

Oh. My. Gawd.

There wasn't enough of any one thing to share amongst 7 people, and there were only 5 different things...let me see if I can remember what they were: fruit cake, fudge, baklava, raspberry cookie bar thing, and......oh who cares.

Anyway, we call mom and dad to "thank them" and they are just so damn proud...these are not 90 yr olds, they are not poor (anymore), and I'm fairly sure they know we have children. We are close to just letting it go and writing it off as our parents being clueless when we happen to ask what Youngest got. Big mistake...HUGE...

He got a box too.

A brand new box...and we are PISSED.

Mom and dad agreed to pay for him to get him a sex change.

J said: "So let me get this straight...the SEVEN of us got a BOX of Harry & David and your brother GOT A VAGINA?!"

And not just a vagina, but hormone treatments, laser hair removal, the works...that shit ain't cheap. Now, granted, my parents have never been big gift givers so it's not like we were expecting a whole lot, but if in order to get them to spend money on us we have to ask for new body parts...hmmm, I think I'll pass.  Granted, I would look pretty darn cute with a new nose, and after the baby and all the acne I could use some laser resurfacing, but a new box?  No thank you, I'm pretty happy with mine, I definitely don't need a new one.

To this day I can't see anything Harry & David without thinking of those little red boxes, and my brother's vagina.