December 29, 2003 - An Armadillo Antler Christmas

My dad returned from his rounds just as we were heading over, so we helped him load up his trunk with both his presents and those left behind by my brother and his wife, who were spending Christmas with her parents in Florida.

Dad wouldn't let The Gryphon carry the box containing his present, for fear he would guess what it was. In retrospect, knowing what the present was, I don't believe this could have been the case. Dad requires an element of intrigue with his Christmas presents.

He always used to take great pains to hide the Christmas presents, and to warn us which parts of the house were off-limits. I can only speak for myself, but I never tried to find any presents ahead of time. To me, that was akin to flipping to the end of a novel and reading the last page first. Why spoil the surprise?

When we got to Mom's, we distributed the presents to each individual, who piled them up where they were sitting. Our system has always been to open each present individually, with everyone paying attention. For some reason that probably once made sense, we go in order of age, so that my sister has always been first and my dad always last.

This extends the gift opening process considerably, especially now that we Wilson siblings are old enough, and solvent enough, to be buying more than one present for everyone. I don't think that, in recent years, we've managed to complete the gift opening in under two hours. I suppose you could say this was The Gryphon's second test in the Walk Through Fire, although it was one that didn't seem to bother him at all.

Through their gifts to us, my family seemed to be sending a pretty clear message that they already approved of The Gryphon.

As I opened a music box shaped like an old-time phonograph, Mom said, "It plays 'Love Story.'" She gave me a broad smile and looked at The Gryphon. "I thought you were at that stage in the relationship." I thanked her and said that yes, we were.

Later, I opened a picnic basket from her, complete with plasticware, plates and cups. "It's tall enough for a bottle of wine," she said. "For a nice romantic picnic."

I smiled at The Gryphon. "Thanks, Mom."

And the mysterious box from my dad turned out to be none other than a telescope. It was a suggestion from my sister, who knew that our first romantic date had been viewing Mars together (a date, incidentally, which she'd suggested to me after I gushed to her about how unexpectedly well he and I hit it off on our first date). She knew, also, that neither of us had a telescope and that we'd had to rely on a friend's pair of binoculars.

So Dad, when The Gryphon opened the telescope, suggested that we could spend more time looking at the stars together.

I was overwhelmed. My family has never shown so much support, been so happy about anybody I've dated. And they were right not to be excited about the others, I must admit in retrospect. The fact that they're so happy about The Gryphon is one of the best presents I could have received.

My brother and his wife called from Florida. We passed around the phone and everybody talked to them. They were enjoying their "Reelect Gore" shirts which I'd made them and said they were getting plenty of interesting stares from people down in Florida. I thanked them for the Stephen King books they'd sent me, the very ones they'd been raving about when my dad and I visited them this summer.

While he was on the phone with my sister, he told her that he'd seen an armadillo in Florida and that he'd gone up to it and touched it. "No, don't do that!" my sister exclaimed. "Armadillos carry leprosy." Strange, but true. I confirmed the fact for him.

She then consoled him by telling him that most people who contract it probably are frequent armadillo handlers and that he should be fine, provided he touch no more armadillos.

Between this and my sister opening two large comforters in a row, the running joke of the morning was, whenever somebody started to open a present, regardless of size or shape, we'd call out, "It's an armadillo! It's a comforter!" I'm sure my brother and his wife would have joined in, had they been there.

I got a lot of thoughtful gifts, including two CD organizers and a photo album (all desperately needed.

My biggest present was from my Dad, and it was something I'd been wanting for years but had not ever bought for myself. He'd made note, while we were watching High Fidelity at his place over Thanksgiving, when I said that I had all kinds of vinyl but no record player and that I'd put myself on a strictly enforced "vinyl ban" until I had something to play them on.

Back in college, during my WPSU days, this was never a problem, since I could listen to my albums at the station. Goodness knows why I'd never thought to tape them, while I had the chance. But now I no longer needed to worry about it, since I have a very fab vintage looking record player to jazz up my place.

The Gryphon accompanied me to my former bedroom, now used for storage, to dig out of my closet a box containing a pretty sizable collection of comedy albums, along with scripts from my WPSU show, The Caverns of Your Mind, and even a few shows on reel-to-reel. Goodness gracious! Times have changed, haven't they?

I would have left the reels behind for now, except that I've promised Mom I will eventually remove all of my items from her house and it hardly seemed fair to pick and choose like that.

People seemed to like my gifts, which included a tie for my dad based on a Schiaparelli design (purchased at the Philadelphia Museum of Art during their Elsa Schiaparelli show); beginning belly dancing/exercise tapes and some jingly jewelry for my sister; some wacky items (keychain dog with flashing eyes, a personalized cup with reproductions of our wacky Halloween photos) and a CD for my sister's boyfriend; and a variety of incense, candles and other meditation related items for my mom, to aid her in her recent interest in prayerful meditation.

After the opening was completed, we drove over to my dad's place, where we prepared dinner. My sister and I also took this opportunity to try on the funny dog hats I'd bought, and of course, take pictures.

After dinner, which was delish, I headed to my dad's office to do my evening's work assignments. Everything went smoothly, and I even had a few breaks to go upstairs and hang out with everyone for awhile.

Later, The Gryphon would tell me this was one of his best Christmas celebrations ever. Armadillos aside, I have to agree.

More of the Wilson family Christmas:

December 28, 2003 - Sugarplum Family

December 30, 2003 - Cat Valhalla

December 31, 2003 - Mega Media

Musings an Online Journal of Sorts By Alyce Wilson
December 29, 2003 - An Armadillo Antler Christmas
Santa was busy	We were up bright and early for Christmas morning, bright and early for us being about 9 a.m. No doubt, we would all have been up earlier if my brother and his wife had been there, since they're both early risers. The plan was to be at my mom's place by 11 a.m. for the exchange of gifts. My dad was already up and running his rounds at the hospital, but there were four of us who needed to get ready: my sister, her boyfriend, The Gryphon and me. We called Mom and told her we'd be a bit late.
My dad returned from his rounds just as we were heading over, so we helped him load up his trunk with both his presents and those left behind by my brother and his wife, who were spending Christmas with her parents in Florida. Dad wouldn't let The Gryphon carry the box containing his present, for fear he would guess what it was. In retrospect, knowing what the present was, I don't believe this could have been the case. Dad requires an element of intrigue with his Christmas presents. He always used to take great pains to hide the Christmas presents, and to warn us which parts of the house were off-limits. I can only speak for myself, but I never tried to find any presents ahead of time. To me, that was akin to flipping to the end of a novel and reading the last page first. Why spoil the surprise? When we got to Mom's, we distributed the presents to each individual, who piled them up where they were sitting. Our system has always been to open each present individually, with everyone paying attention. For some reason that probably once made sense, we go in order of age, so that my sister has always been first and my dad always last. This extends the gift opening process considerably, especially now that we Wilson siblings are old enough, and solvent enough, to be buying more than one present for everyone. I don't think that, in recent years, we've managed to complete the gift opening in under two hours. I suppose you could say this was The Gryphon's second test in the Walk Through Fire, although it was one that didn't seem to bother him at all. Through their gifts to us, my family seemed to be sending a pretty clear message that they already approved of The Gryphon. As I opened a music box shaped like an old-time phonograph, Mom said, "It plays 'Love Story.'" She gave me a broad smile and looked at The Gryphon. "I thought you were at that stage in the relationship." I thanked her and said that yes, we were. Later, I opened a picnic basket from her, complete with plasticware, plates and cups. "It's tall enough for a bottle of wine," she said. "For a nice romantic picnic." I smiled at The Gryphon. "Thanks, Mom." And the mysterious box from my dad turned out to be none other than a telescope. It was a suggestion from my sister, who knew that our first romantic date had been viewing Mars together (a date, incidentally, which she'd suggested to me after I gushed to her about how unexpectedly well he and I hit it off on our first date). She knew, also, that neither of us had a telescope and that we'd had to rely on a friend's pair of binoculars. So Dad, when The Gryphon opened the telescope, suggested that we could spend more time looking at the stars together. I was overwhelmed. My family has never shown so much support, been so happy about anybody I've dated. And they were right not to be excited about the others, I must admit in retrospect. The fact that they're so happy about The Gryphon is one of the best presents I could have received. My brother and his wife called from Florida. We passed around the phone and everybody talked to them. They were enjoying their "Reelect Gore" shirts which I'd made them and said they were getting plenty of interesting stares from people down in Florida. I thanked them for the Stephen King books they'd sent me, the very ones they'd been raving about when my dad and I visited them this summer. While he was on the phone with my sister, he told her that he'd seen an armadillo in Florida and that he'd gone up to it and touched it. "No, don't do that!" my sister exclaimed. "Armadillos carry leprosy." Strange, but true. I confirmed the fact for him. She then consoled him by telling him that most people who contract it probably are frequent armadillo handlers and that he should be fine, provided he touch no more armadillos. Between this and my sister opening two large comforters in a row, the running joke of the morning was, whenever somebody started to open a present, regardless of size or shape, we'd call out, "It's an armadillo! It's a comforter!" I'm sure my brother and his wife would have joined in, had they been there. I got a lot of thoughtful gifts, including two CD organizers and a photo album (all desperately needed. My biggest present was from my Dad, and it was something I'd been wanting for years but had not ever bought for myself. He'd made note, while we were watching High Fidelity at his place over Thanksgiving, when I said that I had all kinds of vinyl but no record player and that I'd put myself on a strictly enforced "vinyl ban" until I had something to play them on. Back in college, during my WPSU days, this was never a problem, since I could listen to my albums at the station. Goodness knows why I'd never thought to tape them, while I had the chance. But now I no longer needed to worry about it, since I have a very fab vintage looking record player to jazz up my place. The Gryphon accompanied me to my former bedroom, now used for storage, to dig out of my closet a box containing a pretty sizable collection of comedy albums, along with scripts from my WPSU show, The Caverns of Your Mind, and even a few shows on reel-to-reel. Goodness gracious! Times have changed, haven't they? I would have left the reels behind for now, except that I've promised Mom I will eventually remove all of my items from her house and it hardly seemed fair to pick and choose like that. People seemed to like my gifts, which included a tie for my dad based on a Schiaparelli design (purchased at the Philadelphia Museum of Art during their Elsa Schiaparelli show); beginning belly dancing/exercise tapes and some jingly jewelry for my sister; some wacky items (keychain dog with flashing eyes, a personalized cup with reproductions of our wacky Halloween photos) and a CD for my sister's boyfriend; and a variety of incense, candles and other meditation related items for my mom, to aid her in her recent interest in prayerful meditation. After the opening was completed, we drove over to my dad's place, where we prepared dinner. My sister and I also took this opportunity to try on the funny dog hats I'd bought, and of course, take pictures. After dinner, which was delish, I headed to my dad's office to do my evening's work assignments. Everything went smoothly, and I even had a few breaks to go upstairs and hang out with everyone for awhile. Later, The Gryphon would tell me this was one of his best Christmas celebrations ever. Armadillos aside, I have to agree. More of the Wilson family Christmas: December 28, 2003 - Sugarplum Family December 30, 2003 - Cat Valhalla December 31, 2003 - Mega Media
Moral: If someone gives you an armadillo for Christmas, run. Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson Musings Index
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