Bad Santa

As you might guess, when it comes to decorating, too many cooks spoil the broth. The ladies at the Autumn Hills Rest Home were at each others throats, so to speak, over how to decorate the great room for Christmas.

Leave it to a diplomatic old fart, George, who came up with a solution:

“I will put the tree up, and we will create a collage. You know, choose an ornament that depicts who you are, and hang it on the tree. Only one ornament, please, per person. That way, our tree will reflect all of us.”

That seemed to satisfy most of us, and we began our quest for the perfect ornament.

“What are you gonna hang, Minnie?”

“My mother’s antique santa.”

“You can’t hang that on the tree. It is way too big.”

“Nope, I am gonna hang it on that tree.”

“It must be at least 3 feet high. Where will you hang that?”

“At the top. I want it as the tree topper. And I want it to be a surprise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tonight, let’s get up at midnite and get the ladder and hang it on the top.”

“Ok, let’s do it.”

That night, at the stroke of midnight, the Autumn Years Rest Home tree crashed. 2 elderly women were found under the tree, laughing. A large antique Santa was playing Jingle Bells, non stop. The tree and its ornaments were unharmed, fortunately. Once the women were freed from under the tree, the other residents of the home chased them unmercifully around the grounds, until they caught them, with the Santa. They banned the women from decorating the tree, and put Santa in storage until next year.

Wolf

Caroling

It’s the season: Christmas Caroling. The good people of the Autumn Hills Rest Home are in the spirit.

“Frank? Do you have the song sheets?”

“Huh? We don’t need song sheets. Everyone knows Christmas Carols.”

“Well, don’t you think we should practice a few? Before we go out?”

“No. Just get ready. We are leaving now.”

“It’s dark. We should have some lights or something.”

“No candles allowed this year. Last year Minnie burned up the reindeer in the neighbor’s yard.”

“How about flashlights? All Seniors have flashlights.”

“Yeah, everyone grab their lights. And let’s go! You women are so slow, it will be Easter before we get out there.”

“Pat? Aren’t you going with us? This is a yearly tradition. The neighbors anxiously await this.”

“Well, I am reading this new book, Grisham, you know. And I just can’t put it down.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake. How about you Mary Cat? You aren’t going either?”

“Naw. I hate Christmas.”

“Geez. Ms Barkley, not you too?”

“Sorry, but Felix is ill. He ate 4 celery stalks and is hardly even chirping. I need to stay with him.”

“So, it’s just Minnie, Frank, George and me? That is pathetic.”

“Wait a minute. The Vikings are on TV. Frank? Get in here. We can’t miss this game.”

“Oh brother. Minnie, it is just you and me. I can’t carry a tune, and the only Christmas song you know is Grandma got run over by a reindeer.”

“So what? Let’s go. Just the two of us.”

It was reported on the late news that 2 elderly women were arrested that evening. They were booked on disturbing the peace and window peeping. The reporter commented: “I think they may have been drinking. The blue haired perp might have been involved in a hit and run, as well. She mentioned that her Grandma got run over.” Police are investigating.

Wolf

The fire that wasn’t

We Seniors don’t miss a thing. For example, last night, at midnight…..

“Hey Mary Cat, wake up. There are red lights flashing outside.”

“What? What the hell? What time is it?”

“I don’t know. But hurry, let’s see what’s going on.”

“Oh wow!! Look at all the fire trucks. There must be 7 trucks out there.”

“Are we on fire? I didn’t hear any alarms?”

“Gee I don’t know. I guess we better wake everyone up, just in case.”

“I will get the first floor, you get the second, and we will all meet down here in the dining room.”

“OK everyone. Now, don’t panic, but there are fire trucks all over the place. And we need to make sure we are all accounted for.”

“Let’s go outside and make sure we are all safe.”

“Are you kidding? It is freezing out there, and we are in our pajamas.”

“Just do it. It is better to be safe than sorry.”

“Come on you guys, make it snappy.”

“Wait, I see a fire man. Let me ask him what is going on.”

“Oh Fire person, can you tell us if we are in any danger?”

“Look lady, get yourself and all those people back inside. You don’t need to be out here. You will all get pneumonia. Why are you out here anyway?”

“Well, there must be a fire. And we are concerned.”

“Well, it isn’t in your rest home. It is up the street, in an old abandoned barn. So get your heineys back inside.”

“Oh. I see. So we are not in danger?”

“No, but you will be if you don’t get those old folks back inside.”

“OK gang, I have everything under control. Time to get back inside, back to beddie bye.”

“Wolf, you are insane. Why in the world would you get us up and do this to us? You nosy old biddie!”

“Well, I’ll be darned. You people have no sense of gratitude. We could have all perished in the fire.”

“Yeah, well, the next time you cry wolf, Wolf, you will definitely perish.”

“Go figure Mary Cat. Some people have no class.”

Wolf

I don’t like her…. or do I?

Every so often, a new person moves into the Autumn Years Rest Home. Today, Pat arrived.

“Hey, Minnie, have you met the new gal?”

“Yes. She seemed so lost, that I showed her around the place.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, I don’t know. Why don’t you go meet her? And let me know what you think.”

“That bad, eh? Ok I will check her out.”

“Here she comes now, with George and Frank.”

“Wouldn’t you know it? She must be on the hunt for a gentleman companion.”

“Ya, and look at how she is dressed. She is wearing a skirt and blouse, and her hair is perfect.”

“That’s all we need. A shameless hussy, hanging around.”

“Would you look at that! She is eating dinner with the guys. She didn’t even bother to introduce herself to us girls.”

“I don’t like her. I can’t help it. I don’t like her.”

“You haven’t even met her, Wolf. Give her a chance.”

“Nope. I don’t like her. Not one bit.”

“Don’t look in her direction. She is walking over here.”

“Hello, Pat. How are you? Let me introduce you to Wolf.”

“Hi Wolf. Pleased to meet you. It was nice of the guys to show me around, but I really wanted to eat with y’all, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you see, George is my second cousin, so he felt obligated, I guess, to show me where to have dinner.”

“OH!! How very nice. Look, Pat, why don’t you hang out with Minnie and me for a few days. We will show you the ropes.”

“Great, and if you girls every need your hair done, let me know. I have my beautician’s license.”

“Wow! You know what Pat? I knew from the minute I saw you, that I liked you.”

“Thanks Wolf.”

Wolf

The Whoopin

It snowed yesterday, and quite a lot for the season’s first wintry blast. The gang at the Autumn Hills Rest Home gathered for breakfast, to marvel at Mother Nature’s handiwork.

“I wonder how much snow we got?”

“Who cares? It’s enough.”

“My grandson said they got over 6 inches in Harrisburg.”

“Like I said, so what?”

“Let’s go out and measure it, before it melts.”

“Yes, let’s go. I have a ruler.”

“You better wear boots. It looks slippery.”

“Don’t be silly. I am just going out in the front yard. I will only be out there for a minute or so.”

“There she goes. Yep, I knew it. She fell.”

“No, she didn’t. She dropped her ruler, and is looking for it.”

“Well, for dumb. Really.”

“We better go out and help her. She will catch her death of cold.”

“Not me. I don’t care if we got a foot of snow or an inch. It’s all the same to me. Cold, wet and white.”

“Oh you are such a grouch. We should start calling you Oscar.”

“Oscar? Why? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it. You crabapple. Come on, Mary Cat, let’s go out and help Wolf.”

“Too late. Here she comes.”

“Whew. It’s mighty chilly out there. And I never did find my ruler.”

“See, I told you women. Dumb dumb dumb.”

“But I did manage to bring you a present, George.”

“A present?”

“Yeah, you crotchety old goof. Minnie, Mary Catherine, here, I brought enough for the 3 of us, to present to George. His first snowball fight of the season.”

“Ready, aim, FIRE.”

“Hey, knock it off! Not fair. Three against one. You girls started something now. C’mon guys, Mickey, Frank, grab your coats, we are gonna have an old fashioned whoop ass of a snowball fight.”

On the 6 o’clock news that evening, the Autumn Years Rest Home was featured: 12 Seniors, dressed in pajamas and slippers, some with coats or sweaters thrown over their night garb, romping and rolling in the snow. The reporter was filming the first snowfall, and stopped to observe the unlikely scene. He managed to get a short remark from one of the women. She had pink bunny slippers on her feet, and her hair was blue.

“We women whooped their asses. Girl Power to the max!”

Wolf

And then there were 7

The Home is quiet today, Sunday. We are waiting for our visitors. Too bad no one showed up.

“Where’s your grand daughter, Minnie? I thought she would be here by now.”

“Well, she is busy, this time of year. Maybe she forgot.”

“George, you might as well take off that tie. Get comfortable. Your kids ain’t showing up.”

“So, what should we do this afternoon?”

“Let’s do some Christmas decorating.”

“Frank, get the ladder. We need to get up in the attic and get our tree.”

“You hold the ladder, George. Minnie and I will go up and get it.”

“Oh no, Minnie. What the hell happened up here?”

“It looks like a wild animal got loose. This is a mess.”

“Wait! Look. There is something running around. Yikes!”

“It’s hiding under the tree!”

“Let me see. Oh my gosh!! It’s a kitten!”

“No, it’s kittens! There must be a half dozen of them up here.”

“And there’s Puff! She didn’t run away after all. Why that stinker.”

“George, Frank? Get some cat food and milk. We have a family to feed.”

“What about our tree?”

“Huh? Oh that. We can’t move the tree now.”

“Besides, we need to make some posters, and find homes for these little guys.”

“Hey, Puff! Where you going?”

“She ran down the ladder.”

“The kittens are trying to follow her!”

“Mickey: I will toss you the kittens. Catch them!”

“Minnie, look! Here comes your grand daughter with her kids.”

“And George’s family showed up too.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yep. Guess we won’t be needing those posters after all.”

Wolf

What did you have in mind?

We had a wonderful holiday at the home. Everyone is stuffed and bloated and glassy eyed, after eating left over turkey and the trimmings. Now it is time to watch TV and crash.

“What’s on tonight?”

“I don’t care what you want, we are watching the PBS channel. Do Wop is on.”

“God, I hate that music. It is so dumb.”

“I love it.”

“It all sounds the same, do wop do wop do wop.”

“When was that popular anyway? In the 60s?”

“Who cares? It is really a drag.”

“Last night they had the 50s on. Patti Page and Gogi Grant and all those wonderful love songs.”

“Thank God I went to bed early. That stuff is terrible.”

“So what do you like?”

“I prefer the good stuff, like old blue eyes and Tony what’s his name.”

“Tony? Who the hell is Tony? The only Tony I know is Tony Soprano.”

“Well in case you didn’t hear, he is moving to Hunterdon County, NJ.”

“Let him. Everyone knows Jersey is full of those mafia types.”

“I think I will go to my room and watch a movie.”

“What movie?”

“Harvey.”

“Oh really? I love that movie. Bring it out here and we can all watch it.”

“Oh no you don’t. We are watching Do Wop out here. Who wants to watch an invisible rabbit, anyway?”

“Let’s take a vote…. Those who want Do Wop, say Aye. Ok 3 votes. And those who want Harvey? Yes!!! 12 votes. Harvey wins by a mile.”

“You do-woppers can go to your rooms.”

“Well! I’ll be damned. Who do you think you are, anyway?”

“Dowd. Elwood P. Allow me to introduce my dear friend. Hahahahah.”

Wolf

Rootin’ Tootin’ Rutabaga

“Hey girls, it’s Black Friday. Let’s go!”

“No thanks, you and Minnie, go ahead. I hate crowds.”

“C’mon Minnie, get ready and let’s go boogie.”

“Naw, I don’t want to get trampled.”

“Well, how about you guys? Frank? George? Mickey?”

“Nope. We are staying here. We are watching old movies and eating turkey sandwiches.”

“You mean none of you old farts want to keep up an American tradition? What the heck is wrong with all of you?”

“Look Wolf. You may call it a tradition, but I call it misery. We just finished Thanksgiving and you are succumbing to the biggest American scam there is: A commercialized Christmas.”

“Yeah, who wants to think about Christmas right now?”

“For sure. What you gonna do? Sit on some drunk Santa’s lap and lie? Tell him you have been good all year?”

“Well, for Pete’s sake. I think you are all getting old.”

“Now you’re talking, Einstein. Hahah. For once you got something right.”

“Ok. I give up. You folks are no fun. Hey where you all going?”

“There’s bingo in the great room. And the prizes are really nice today.”

“Like what?”

“Fruit, nuts, candy and a rutabaga.”

“A rutabaga?”

“Yes, it was left over from dinner yesterday. No one likes rutabagas.”

“What would you do with it, if you won it?”

“Put it in your stocking for Christmas, Wolf.”

“Why you old goat!”

“Come on gang, let’s go win that rutie tootie. Whoever wins it can put it in Wolf’s stocking.”

“Merry Christmas, Wolf.”

Wolf

To brine, or not to brine

“I just heard that it is imperative to brine the turkey.”

“What? No way. Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess it makes the bird fluffier.”

“Who wants a fluffy bird? I want a good old fashioned turkey.”

“What is brine, anyway?”

“Salt and water and spices. You dip the bird in it, I guess.”

“Yeah, I saw it on the Food Network. They say it really makes the bird tasty.”

“Oh Oh. Here comes Ms. Barkley, our in house bird watcher. She never eats fowl.”

“I heard that. I will have you know that I am not eating with you this year. I refuse to be around a dead roasted bird. There is something unholy about it.”

“So where are you going?”

“To the Chinese restaurant.”

“Guess you would rather eat cat, eh? Hahahahaah.”

“Very funny, you hose head. You know I am a vegetarian.”

“Are we really gonna have a brined turkey?”

“I hope not. I mean, all this fancy new stuff they show on the Food Channel, just to confuse us. I hate that when someone tries to ruin our traditional meals.”

“They even said the green bean casserole is no good. They have a new recipe out with nuts and cranberries in it.”

“And they put cheese in mashed potatoes.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO.”

“I wonder if our cook watches that show? I sure hope not.”

“Here she comes now. Let’s ask her.”

“Hey, Mrs. Roberts, do you watch the food network?”

“Of course I do. It is my favorite channel.”

“Did you get any new ideas for our dinner this Thanksgiving?”

“Of course I did. Lots of changes this year. You will be surprised.”

“Uhm, uhm, Ms. Barkley? What time are you going to the Chinese Restaurant tomorrow? Can we tag along?”

Wolf

Leave it to the Irish

Just a few days before Thanksgiving and we are anxious for the big day and its activities. To keep our minds off the turkey and football, we decided to have a pot luck ethnic day at the home. In other words, if you had a favorite dish from your ancestral background, cook it, bake it or buy it and bring it to the potluck, to share.

Gloria made a Greek salad with feta cheese and stuffed olives and a wonderful cucumber sauce. George bought a case of Pennsylvania Dutch root beer. Ms Barkley made watercress sandwiches. Laura baked several varieties of Norwegian cookies. Minnie whipped up her delicious pasta with meat sauce. Frank bought garlic bread at the bakery. I prepared a casserole I call cheese pudding. And Mickey brought a potato and a 6 pack of beer.

We were ready to serve the meal when Pastor Tom arrived unexpectedly, with a group of children from the orphanage. They had adopted us as their grandparents, and visited occasionally, bringing gifts for us. They had drawn turkeys and pilgrims and wanted to decorate our dining room for Thanksgiving.

They were adorable, all 12 of them. They were a little raggedy, slightly disheveled, and full of life. They had a hug for each of us, before they began their task of brightening our dining room.

Laura whispered to us: “Let’s invite them to eat with us. We have plenty of food.”

George agreed and said, “Yes for sure.”

Minnie had tears in her eyes and said, “What about the other kids at the Orphanage? You know, those who couldn’t come today. Pastor Tom said they were getting over the flu.”

Ms Barkley remarked, “You are absolutely correct. We have to think about them.”

A unanimous decision was made to wrap up all the food and send it back with the kids. Well, except for Mickey’s potato and six pack of beer, that is.

The kids squealed with delight, hugged us and left with our ethnic food.

Just then, Mary Catherine showed up, late as usual, with a pan of stuffed cabbage rolls.

“Sorry I am late. Did I miss the party?”

“No, my dear. You ARE the party.”

We shared the beer and cabbage rolls and burped and tooted all afternoon. It was a gas.

Wolf