So, it isn't completely unheard of for me to review something I wrote in a previous blog and edit out a part that I belatedly realized might not sit well with some people.
In chatting with a friend the other day, I was informed that one line from my last blog could be viewed as being extremely conceited and self-absorbed. The line, which I have since changed, was related to my father writing a memo to potential suitors that I had "won the genetic lottery," and was followed by a comment about how I am willing to provide references on how terrific my sense of humor is (insert tongue in cheek here).
When my friend told me this, I was rather at a loss. It of course struck me immediately that he was right, but since the entire comment was supposed to be a combined statement on how fathers always think their daughters are anybody's best catch, combined with some wry sarcasm on the benefits of receiving my dad's genetics, it hadn't really occurred to me what the more obvious interpretation of that statement would be.
It provoked some thought on my part, which inevitably led me to the following problem: how do you blog about something funny when your audience ranges from people who know you extremely well and can finish half your sentences for you, to people who have met you once at a cocktail party, to people who you were passingly friendly with in high school? The issue there being that people who know me well read the exact same line mentioned above and busted a gut, and some others were apparently EXTREMELY turned off by it, thinking that I'm this horribly stuck up person who thinks overhighly of myself... which I can assure you is most certainly not the case.
For example, my sister had read the blog. I asked if she'd read it prior to my edit, and she had. I told her of the reason for the edit, and she snorted, laughed and said, "Yes, but who in their right mind would EVER want to win that lottery?!" THANK YOU, Jen, my point exactly. But if you don't know my dad, you don't know me quite well (well enough to know I in no way think I am a genetic masterpiece, LOL) and don't know the multitude of downsides to receiving the Sivertson genes... well, yes, you get the point. However you can't write to everyone's benefit, but you edit the text, shrug and move on.
So, now that I've gotten that off my chest, on to the "real" blog.
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Christmas in the Sivertson household is always quite a riot. There are generally at least 4 dogs in my parents' small house, 3 of which are approx. 100 lbs. The fourth is a wired-up dalmation cross who is forever darting about and tripping people (those who aren't tripped are sometimes knocked down by the other three). My dwarf aunt (from my mom's side) adds to the mix by randomly throwing food to the dogs and exclaiming, "Who wants to play FRISBEE??" at odd moments, which is a guaranteed method of getting my huge German Shepherd, Dante, leaping up and howling like Chewbacca to anyone who will listen. The term that comes to mind is "dogemonium." As in, a pandemonium of dogs.
Next on the list is my father and my sister's fiance of 7 years loudly discussing passenger boats over the tops of everyone else's heads (they're substantially taller than the rest of us) and increasing volume as needed so that they can hear each other from exact opposite sides of the room. The dogs at this point lie down and resign themselves to boredom for a brief time.
Meanwhile my mother is futilely attempting to put together an elegant family function, while trying to juggle my sister and I, who alternate in assisting and/or managing said function and injecting completely inelegant humorous comments while laughing like hyenas. When my oldest sister (who is 14 years older) is present, the effect is multiplied by three and frequently includes totally random quotes from "Raising Arizona." When it's just Jen and I, the comments tend to include quite a bit of David Sedaris and Eddie Izzard (look them up, they rock). You'd be shocked at how often the quotes of a transvestite British comedian can be applied to your average family gathering. "You want a rack of babies? We've got babies on racks!" "Sometimes I'd go up in that tree and the squirrel would be just COVERED in makeup!" "You can't kill the rooster!"
My sister (three years my elder, btw) also tends oddly towards imitating a small child at times... I guess that since she doesn't want kids she has decided to substitute occasionally acting like one in order to make the rest of us crazy. Example... picking some random term out of the conversation and repeating it to me 5 times until she manages to intrude on my concentration and tell her to shut it. "Steak seasoning? STEAK SEASONING. Steak Seasoning? STEAK SEASONING. Steak Seasoning?" "You! SHUT UP." Then she giggles like a five year old and goes back to sipping her Tom and Jerry.
Truth be told, however, my sister and I are two sides of the same coin. There are multiple documented cases of one of us leaving the room and both of us going on to say the *exact* same thing to someone 30 seconds later. And we frequently startle people at the horse shows we manage together by glancing at each other and bursting into laughter from nothing more than a shared glance. There is some level of shared thought going on there which lends itself to complex lines of reasoning that somehow end in the same place. We've long since stopped asking each other if we're both laughing about the same thing, because we pretty much always are.
If the holidays include a date, I generally tend to warn people in advance. Between my aunt (see above), who is definitely her own brand of interesting, my parents and the general state of crazy humor, it can be a bit bizarre for the uninitiated. However it's relatively tame compared to how it used to be. In years past the holidays would have also included my two grandmothers, who are polar opposites of one another.
My Danish grandmother from my father's side was a demure woman of excellent manners who wore the same outfit for virtually every Christmas I can remember (a dark aqua ruffled blouse with one of several necklaces received from her granddaughters, and black slacks). My mother's mother, on the other hand.... she was a German grandmother to the very definition, who was quite fond of her cocktails and reminding each family member of each and every one of his/her respective shortcomings ("Erica, I'm so proud of you for graduating from college. I never thought you'd get that far, you know." "Thanks, grandma, that's lovely."). It was probably revenge for our behavior as children, when all of us cousins would sit outside during the summer and giggle like chipmunks as we took turns imitating her inebriated behavior while shouting at each other, "God damn it Fritz, help me up!" and pretending to fall down on the lawn. Weren't we just peaches? That's okay, she only got meaner as the years went by. The truth is, she was equally mean to her own kids when they were growing up, so I can take no credit whatsoever for her vitriolic sense of family affection.
Perhaps she was just an outlandish example of the dry humor the rest of us have heartily embraced. My 5 year old 2nd cousin asked me last night, "Where is the Christmas tree?" When I pointed out the 3-ft tree sitting on a coffee table, she looked puzzled and wondered why we didn't have a bigger one. My mom then grumpily explained that my father doesn't like Christmas (total crap, btw) and decorating is too much work. After that comment my father seemed out to prove her right, and I caught him later telling my little cousin that "Sometimes we give the presents back to Santa and he gives them to other little kids next year." Fortunately my dad is a total cream puff with kids and she was smart enough to catch the twinkle in his eye and make a saucy comment back. Just what we need, a traumatized year old who thinks she isn't getting any presents!
If you embrace the fam, it's a wild and lovely ride. Traditions pass from grandparents on down, and the Tom and Jerry's and Norwegian fish cakes generally make their welcome appearance. (don't ask for the recipe, I won't give it to you, LOL). Tomorrow Christmas will be over and this year will be relegated to memory, the year when dad tried to tell Clara we give back the Christmas presents and I lined up the Tom and Jerry mugs for a photo shoot. The year Kitty gave me a hand-painted portrait of Diva and Dante drove everyone crazy on Christmas Eve because his frisbee was forgotten at home. The year when my mom bought my dad the "ShamWow" as a massive family joke, and my sisters took pity on me and bought me gift cards for a new washer and dryer. And the year Don drove all the way back from Wyoming in a day so he could spend Christmas day with us and discuss cleaning guns with my father for hours on end while the rest of us sprawled in front of the fireplace with Weez, Tuck-tuck, Big Digs and Kent (sorry, dalmations don't get cute nick-names).
On that image, I wish you all a very happy holiday season and I hope that you're enjoying your family time as much as I am. Love you, guys!
-Erica.
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