Okay, I have a Santa collection. This is a terrible photoooo. My GPS switched over to “night” before I even left Cubeland Farms today — right around five — so even though it was a pretty smooth commute, by the time I got to the Landfill, it was pretty much pitch black out. I didn’t feel like futzing around getting a fancy pitcher. You get what you get.

So, I have a Santa collection but I am NOT a Santa *collector*! This is it! It shares half a banker’s box with some gaudy metal xmas tree candle-holders from Pier One or somewhere and it is not going to grow. I “inherited” most of these Santas from The Commander although there are a few specimens that she gave me over the years. And one that Lizard Breath made in nursery school or somewhere. Can you spot that one?

The Comm’s Santa collection was her way of decorating after she and Grandroobly stopped putting up a tree. I don’t actually remember when that was but probably sometime in the beach urchins early teenhood? Maybe? Whenever they made that decision, I’m not sure it had all that much to do with grandchildren. We took Lizard Breath up there for her first xmas when she was two months old. After that, we stayed home. That was hard (for me) those first couple years but as time went on, we grew our own [non-]traditions. Some years we would head up to Siberia *after* xmas. My brother almost always took his family up there for part of the holiday season so the grandparents were not lacking for grandchildren. That said, I think they often felt relief when all of us left and they could get back to their usual routines, etc.*

Anyway, after 1984, I spent exactly two more xmas days with my mother. 2010, when she hitched a ride down to The Planet Ann Arbor with Our Northern Correspondent (and we drove her back on New Year’s Eve). And 2011, when we drove up to Siberia to open gifts with her in her assisted living apartment and cook dinner for her in Command Central. That was the last time I saw her healthy but that would be a whole ‘nother story. A long one.

* Am I turning into my mother? For years I went north with two kids, two vee-hickles, tons of crap that we didn’t need and pets (during a certain period). Oh, and food… Food that my mother didn’t need me to leave. Whenever we were packing up to leave, The Comm would be kind of following me around… “Don’t forget this. Don’t forget that. Did you remember about this?” It drove me absolutely bonkers until one day when I had a couple of epiphanies. One: My mother loves us but she wants to regain control over her own space and she wants to make sure all of our junk is outta here. Two: I am trying to FOCUS on packing all of our stuff but it’s really hard when my mother is following me around asking me to remember various things. I finally said to her something like, “Moom, please let me pack for now and when I think I am finished, I’ll let you know and then you can double-check that I’ve taken all of the things you don’t want me to leave behind.” That actually worked! So… Lizard Breath was over here for a few days around Thanksgiving and she was packing up to leave on Saturday and WHAT WAS I DOING??? Popping around saying things like, “Don’t forget this. Don’t forget that. Did you remember about this?” Liz (being very polite): “Mooom…” Me: [ulp] “Okay, I am being like The Commander.” I actually said something like that. And then I left her alone and washed the dishes.

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