All the wonders of a Christmas in July
You always hear about Christmas in July, but never about Independence Day in December.
True, the last month of the year has the birth of Jesus, but also a bunch of downers like Pearl Harbor.
I’m still not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that I was was born in December.
When my friend Louis Dugas died on my birthday in ‘05, I laughed with sadness.
He just had to get in that one last punchline. I miss his bright light.
So December needs a little beefing up, and I say Independence Day.
You’ve already got the fireworks. I think Ben Franklin would be very proud.
As for this July, I’ll be in the garage listening to music and looking at the reindeer I bought last Christmas.
It’s one of those fake kinds, because there was a discount at CVS and all my neighbors had one.
It definitely wasn’t made in Santa’s workshop. More like a sweatshop in Taiwan. I’m not sure how Ben Franklin would feel about that, but anything where an 8-year-old gets 50 cents an hour can’t be good.
The instructions were written in every language other than English, with the exception of large letters that read, “Warning: this product contains lead. Wash hands immediately after using.”
I struggled with this thing in the kitchen for an hour, took it out to the yard and tried to keep it from falling. The spikes they give you to drive into the ground don’t work very well; and everytime the rain showed up, I’d have to get him out of it, or unplug him.
I got to where I washed my hands when I even looked at this thing. And after all that, I discovered I couldn’t see it from any vantage point in the house. I don’t think it would have bothered Ben Franklin, but it bothered me.
So I took advantage of my electric garage door which won’t close, and leaned him against the side of the east railing. And he has stayed there through many high windstorms, and there he must stay.
Because one, I can’t go through all that setup again come December.
And two, it’s Christmas in July.