Painted by my talented cousin, Richard Lewis. Click the picture to learn more about him.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

A View of My Favorite Christmas Stories - Day 6

When Christmas decorations are done with taste and restraint, there is nothing more beautiful. When Christmas decorations aren't, it's a spectacle that has to be seen to be believed.


(This picture is from the blog, "Roadside Curiosities.")

Like this house, located on the corner of Washington St. and 12 Mile Road in Royal Oak. There are lights, and inflatable Santas (note the plural), and lights, and illuminated nativity scenes, and lights, and snowmen, and lights, and music (from multiple sources), and lights.

(Video, from YouTube, taken by BradiKal61 on 12/24/09)

It is a hot Christmas mess, and I love every single bulb of it.
One year, I took my mom and sister to see the House That Christmas Invaded, and when they saw it....

Well, it's the holidays, so I can't exactly repeat the language verbatim. If I did, Santa would leave enough coal in my stocking to power this display for a day. But to sum it up, it came down to the following:

1) How much is their light bill? The video and pictures do not fully capture the effect of all the lights. You can see the house a couple of blocks away. There are lights in the trees, on the ground, in the shrubs, on the garage at the end of their driveway, on the roof, wrapped around the fence posts...the lights have lights. If you look closely, you'll see a circuit breaker box in a corner of the yard, cleverly disguised by lights of course. Some of the decorations blink, while others spin, dance, bob, weave, or even play music.




The entire yard seems to dance. The rest of the block, not surprisingly, is dark. This family covers the holiday spread for the neighborhood, and it must be one hell of a tab. Which gets me to the next observation....

2) What's with the Calphalon stock pot chained to the front yard fence? On the fence leading to the walkway and front door, there was a huge Calphalon stock pot chained to one of the posts. The lid was secured to the pot, and there was a small slit cut in the center of it, right by the handle. Taped to the pot was a small, typewritten note that said, in effect, that while the family loves Christmas and love sharing their love of Christmas with everyone who stopped by (and as you see, the crowds can be pretty big), it gets to be a sacrifice to put up such a display, so any donation visitors could make would greatly be appreciated. When my sister saw the pot, she lost it.

"Hell, what they spent on this pot could've gone toward the bill," she ranted in a way that would've made the Grinch shake his head. "Nobody asked them to put this up. Besides, I know what they should spend the money on...." That gets me to the next observation....

3) "That dog must have cancer of the ass!" The year we went, there was a large dog in the yard - a big, happy, lumbering mutt, kind of like the Bumpus's dogs.


The dog came to the fence, played with the kids so enamored with the holiday excess, begged for random treats...and smelled something awful. It was a big, sweet, goofy, flatulent dog, and when he was downwind of Debbie, she lost her cool.

"Oh, damn!" she grumbled, pulling away from the fence with disgust. "That's just not right. They should take the money from that pot and get that dog to a vet. Smelling like that, he has to have cancer of the ass!"

A kid standing nearby giggled. His mother, not so much. Debbie noticed people in the house looking out the living room window, and watched as the dog walked by again, leaving behind yet another stink bomb.

"He did it again!" she yelled to the people looking out the window. "Hey family! Your dog has cancer of the ass!"

Needless to say, that wrapped up our visit. As we drove home, Mom kept marveling over how much the light bill had to be, each time naming a higher number. Debbie, a dog lover from her heart, was still irate about the smelly dog. I tried to stifle a laugh over the surreal Christmas experience, but couldn't.

The family still decorates the house, by the way. Have been doing it for 25 years. I still drive by occasionally to enjoy the holiday excess. I don't take my sister, and I don't know whatever happened to the dog.

Tomorrow: Navtivity scenes in playhouses and Christmas trees horse collar tackled by cats.

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