Coffee Chronicles …and Have You Tried VR Yet?

Whaddup Chroniclers?

Only 364 more shopping days until Christmas. I'll probably wait about 363 more until I start my shopping. I have a plan, I just don't know what it is until the last minute.

We enjoyed the kids. Thankfully, all but two of them have aged past the excitement of the four AM wake up. I'm even more thankful that the early morning excitement occurs in a domicile 30 miles from mine. Mike and Val have a few more years before our littlest baristas will have enough patience to sleep in until a reasonable hour on December 25th.

So, what's the tradition for Christmas at your house? Way back in the day, the HB and I would use a tactic that we thought would quell the kids' anticipation. In a feeble attempt to tack on an hour or more of sleep, we would keep them up until midnight and would then allow them to open only ONE gift, of their choosing, at the magic hour.

First of all, take it from me, that didn't work. They were still up at the crack of 4:30 in the morning, bouncing around like an adolescent tuned up on some type of upper, a Red Bull in one hand and a Monster energy drink in the other, chomping at the bit to open the rest of their gifts.

Then they would tear through all the wrapping paper to get at their gifts so that they could get outside and try out their new bikes, new roller skates or new basketball and hoop. Who remembers the good ol' days when all of the presents you got took you outside to play with the neighborhood kids whose gifts miraculously were the same as yours?

Of course when they tore out the door to play, they left the living room looking like a Tasmanian Devil had gone through a Christmas wrapping paper factory.

Oh, c'mon! I know everyone went through that stage, right?

This year it was different. On the Eve of Christmas, the HB and I were bundled up on the couch next to one another drinking hot apple cider, watching Christmas movies with the lights on the tree twinkling in the living room window. This year, the HB forbade me from turning on the Hallmark Channel until the 23rd, so I had to get my fix in, all in one night.

We watched 3 movies, but none of the titles are stuck in my head. Coincidentally, they all had the same theme, and you know how each one ended; everyone in the movie came to the realization that angels are real, or that Santa Claus does exist and/or the Christmas spirit is a thing.

The one title that I do remember is the one where Cary Grant tortures David Niven in “The Bishop's Wife.” My favorite aunt was spending the night and while we were perusing Prime titles, she told me that the classic had a remake. The HB & watched that one, while my aunt fell asleep and it watched her. Have you ever done the IMDB on the movie cast that you're watching? Eeek. Everyone in the 1947 motion picture is pushing up daisies, except for the little girl, and she's in her 80s. Well geez! The cast was mostly born in the late 1800s!

Okay, let's do a little math here. Yeah, I like to work in little math every once in awhile, so that I can keep my JHS algebra teacher, Mr. Miyata's, juices flowing. I swore to him and to my Guidance Counselor Mrs. Keithley (née Bring) that I'd never use this stuff ever again after I graduated. Ugh, it pains me that Mr. Miyata proves me wrong almost daily. Now let's see…if I were to have been born in 1888, and I was still walking around today, I would be …REALLY EFFIN' OLD! It's no wonder that Cary Grant and the really classy looking lady that he was flirting with in this movie are gone!

— — —

So, on Christmas day we visited the boys, their wives and kids at their respective houses. First stop was the oldest boy’s. It was one-thirty in the afternoon and they were all still all in their matching PJs. Yep. That's a thing. Even the HB and I did it last year. We didn't do it this year, because that doggone thing was so friggin' HOT that the dang suit had me sweating like a sex worker visiting the Pope.

They were cute, though; three grown-assed kids and their parents in matching pajamas, lounging around drinking wine and eating cheese off a charcuterie board. You probably think that I'm exaggerating, doncha? This is for real. Jenn had three or four different salamis and some chorizo. There was a jam that I am kicking myself for not trying, some stuffed olives and I can't even name all the cheeses that were there, but they were delicious!

The first step is admitting it to ones' self, right?

"Hello, my name is Marc and I'm a cheese-aholic."

The problem I had was that my daughter-in-law cut all the cheese up into these cute little, tiny, itty-bitty pieces. I was trying to surreptitiously walk over to the cheese board and get some of that scrumpt-deliciousness, so that no one knew how many times I snuck over for a piece. I think my son caught on to me right about my twelfth or seventeenth trip to the cheese board.

“Dad, just get it all. Go ahead, that’s what it’s for.”

My pride just wouldn’t allow me to gobble it up by the handful. But it was just so good!

After a few rounds of a really fun card game that the grandson taught us, the HB & I headed out toward Riverside to catch up with the youngest boy and his brood. His boys are really good for the ego; they are always excited to see their grandparents. Each one of us. We hung out there for a bit with the daughter-in-law’s parents who were also there. Her mother, Barb, cooked lasagna, an instant way to put a smile on my face. I’m pretty sure that I was Garfield in another life. I really like lasagna. And one of the littlest baristas ran to the fridge to get me a Pepsi. This was a “real” Pepsi, not that sugar free Pepsi in a black can, like the one the oldest boy tried to pawn off on me earlier in the day. Ahhhh. Much better.

Someone, who shall remain nameless (her initials are Valerie), seemed to think that it would be a good idea to get her little baristas a karaoke speaker with two wireless mics! This was not a toy karaoke machine, mind you, but a real live adult-sized,semi-professional, karaoke machine with lights, volume, bass and treble, controls and everything.

Apparently my grandsons felt the need to describe that was happening, in real time, as if they were announcing an athletic event for someone listening on the radio for a visually impaired friend. They also felt that they should sing and talk with the volume all the way up. Two things you need to know about my grandsons: everything they do is already at a high-pitched, almost shriek. Professional grade microphones and loudspeakers really are not necessary for you to be able to hear them from three doors away. And two, everything they do is a competition with one another. If one does something, the other has to do it right after him, just louder and better.

One day, probably sooner than later, my daughter-in-law will realize that loud gifts and any toys that make any repetitive noises are for other people’s children, not your own.

My daughter-in-law must have a direct line to her favorite uncle, McCroc. Because one of the gifts that she got her husband for Christmas this year, is his very own pair of rubber shoes to start out his collection. At least she bought him some 9er, Dodgers and Arizona State bobbles to adorn his Crocs. Oh good grief!

Then we came home and the HB, Jr. brought over her junior baristas for their gift exchange. Her kids are also at full volume all the time. While their competition is a bit more friendly and civil than their two younger cousins, they’re just loud because they're trying to talk over one another. I used to think it was because they were hearing impaired. No. They just live out loud.

They get it quite honestly, their mom is the exact same way. They talk. They laugh. They dance. They party like it’s 1999. …and it’s all for the ‘gram. When they come over, it’s nonstop crazy, with Grammie right in the middle of the chaos. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

— — —

Okay, time for a little self-deprecation.

Last Christmas, the HB got me the coolest gift ever: a VR headset. Well, I recently learned that I can use my headset to sit courtside at selected NBA games. Whaaaaaaaat? Yep. Last night I got it all hooked up, hoping to catch the Lakers game, only to learn that not all games are available, again just some of them. But still, it was very cool and I was truly excited.

I got it all going and I was in hog heaven, sitting at the scorer's table. I mean there were times when the coaches standing on the sideline and players checking in were in my direct line of sight blocking me from seeing part of the court! YES! As the kids say, “I’m all up in this piece!”

The HB was in the kitchen, cooking me up some chops, but I wanted her to see this! So I called out to her, “HEY, HB! COME HERE! YOU HAVE GOTTA SEE THIS!”

(crickets)

I tried once again, “AITCH-BEE! CAN YOU HEAR ME? COME CHECK THIS OUT!”

(nada)

I guessed that she probably couldn’t hear me, so I went back to enjoying the game for a few more minutes until I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I snatched off my headset and walked into the kitchen, “HB! You gotta check this out!” But she wasn't in there. The pork chops were on the stove simmering, but she wasn’t in the kitchen. She probably had to get something from the bedroom, so I walked to the other side of the house, passing the den calling out for her.

The house was eerily quiet.

“Where could she have gone?” I thought to myself. I walked back into the den to grab my phone, to call her. If you knew the layout of our house, you’d understand. You cannot be in the back of the house and hear anyone at the door, in the kitchen, or at the front of the house. We literally had to install an intercom system in order to hear the doorbell before Ring was a thing. The call went to voicemail.

Where in the world is this woman?

I walked back & forth through the house, past the den 3 more times, yelling out her name. I even checked outside in the back and front yards.

Where was this woman?

I came back inside and there she is in the hallway holding up her phone, taking a video of me, giggling.

She had been sitting in the den with me, in the chair about 15 feet away in the semi-

darkness videoing me hoping to catch me doing something silly with the headset on, probably for submission to that show with that handsome guy who does that fancy little diddy to a Tom Jones classic tune. Well, I have news for you. Who needs a headset? She caught me on video walking past her 3 or 4 times calling out her name.

Trained observer, my patootie.

Drink ‘em if you got ‘em!

#coffeehousechronicles