What happened when my email wouldn't work and I fled to my parents'

 


THIS is what happens when I spend an innocent Saturday chez parents.

Top: the Day of the Dead figure my brother made in gradeschool, which is permanently enshrined in the home. For Christmas, it gets some special touches. A new hat. Some red berries to cover the pastel fake flowers. I couldn't quite capture its face, but my God it would make you weep with laughter.

The gingerbread man. He's been missing an eye for several years. I think he's as old as me.

The elves. Oh, the elves. They've never looked this funny. I couldn't stop taking pictures of them. So cheeky! After witnessing my photo shoot and its products, my brother, who'd left his computer long enough to see what the commotion was, retreated saying, "Slowly back away..."

Middle: The One Ring. Complete with the elvish lettering or whatever it's supposed to be. Word proudly by the Day of the Dead guy. And as my sister said, "If someone was to see the picture of the One Ring, they'd think 'what the hell is this?'" She has no idea.

Day of the Dead guy, with festive surroundings. Need I say more?

With his jaunty hat, the non-seasonal one.

Bottom: Nutcracker. Boring.

My dad dusting off the rarely used espresso machine before my sister took custody.

The fridge, complete with holiday party invitation and mullet magnets (there's a whole set).

THE END