Christmas 2005

“Charles, this is Alan Kent.”
“How are you Alan?”
“I’m fine. I have good news for you. Your truck is now on Mexican roads. You should have your things on Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas.”
“Five days ago you told me that the truck was leaving the border that day.”
“Yes, but now it has.”

Needless to say, I put no stock in the stuff actually arriving on schedule. I didn’t want to have to explain to a three-year-old why there was no Christmas tree on Christmas so I needed a plan B. Frustrated, after looking for an artificial tree in four stores in two cities, I had to go to plan C.

Off to one side of the property, we have a row of five pine trees. I selected the least “Charlie Brown” looking of these and strung it with 400 white lights. I then ran about two hundred feet of extension cord from the outlet on the Barbeque. My plan was that, on Christmas Eve we would say, “I think I heard Santa outside!” Then we’d run outside and see the tree lit off in the distance. We’d run to that end of the property to find the gifts under the tree, load them into a wheelbarrow strategically (and conveniently) placed near the tree, and return to the house to open the gifts. What an exciting country experience this would be for a little girl from the city.

True to his word, for the first time, my stuff arrived at 9:30 AM on Christmas Eve. The back patio immediately became a disaster. Amidst the jumble of boxes and furniture I found my Christmas tree and ornaments. While I did inventory, Rodrigo and his cousin Chelo set up the tree in the living room.

Two of the shipping boxes had broken. Those containing all my personal files, income tax, insurance, mortgage, etc. It looked as if they’d been scattered down a dusty street. Three-year-old Elizabeth, determined to help, came carrying a cooking magazine and two porno magazines and said something I didn’t understand in Spanish. “She wants to know what kind of magazines these are,” Rodrigo translated. I quickly removed them from her tiny hands and said that they were not interesting and that she should look for others.

One of the movers handed me a cell phone. “Charles, this is Alan Kent. Can you pay the drivers the balance due?”

“Actually, no. I’m withholding $1,000 until you deliver my remaining things that are still in Oakland, at my friend’s house, and remove the boxes for that other guy that my friend has been storing for over a month. Also, I am not happy. Furniture is damaged, stained and some pieces, my favorites, are broken beyond repair. And it appears that I’m missing many boxes.”

“Yes, there are still 10 boxes of books, a chair and some kitchen items yet to come. Didn’t they tell you that?”

“No, they failed to mention anything.”

“Ok, that is fine. I will send a guy to look at the furniture. We deal with repairs all the time. Do not worry.”

“We’ll see.”

I handed the phone back to the mover just as my migraine began to really kick in. However, I resolved that this was Christmas and despite my disappointment with the timing and condition of my furniture, I was not going to spoil everyone else’s Christmas by moping around. The mattresses, bed frame, couch, television, stereo equipment and a lot of other stuff, would just have to sit on the patio for days, until I could find a place for them. Thank god no rain was in sight.

The question, “Can someone carve the turkey while I make the gravy?” was met with blank stares. No one had ever carved a turkey before. “Rodrigo, you’re a surgeon, it is not that difficult.”

“But I don’t know how.”

“Well watch because next year it is all yours.”

After dinner we heard the sound of a bell outside. Santa had arrived. We threw on our jackets and dashed out the back door to see the tree glowing in the distance, and ceremoniously looked into the sky for signs of Santa. Amid ooo’s and aaah’s we trudged across the property to the tree, retrieved the gifts and wheeled them back to the house.

Rodrigo came to me the next morning. “Melissa told Chelo that Santa was a bad boy yesterday, for leaving the gifts so far away.”

So much for two hundred feet of extension cords and the country touch.

My migraine lasted for four days but I powered through a barrage of holiday parties and dinners, unpacking boxes and moving furniture and rugs as time permitted. I have dispersed furniture and electronic equipment amongst friends until we are able to build a casita. Things are beginning to calm but I am still waiting for word on my remaining shipment.

As I sit here typing this, a dog that we are caring for lies by my feet. She smells. She was sprayed by a skunk last night and insists on following me everywhere.

Today I will redeem one of my gifts, a 1.5 hour massage. I need it.