Christmas has always been a big deal with us, especially when it came to decorating the house. "Go Big or Go Home" we always used to say and we always prided ourselves on being excessive, yet tasteful.
But not for the past four years.
Christmas 2007 was amazing.
Christmas 2008... not so much. At that point I had been out of work for months and the reality that we might lose the house was starting to sink in. There wasn't much holiday cheer, not to mention gifts, and we didn't bother to decorate. A month later, the boyfriend was laid off and the death spiral began in earnest.
Christmas 2009 found us shellshocked in the aftermath and living in Bakersfield. It never even occurred to us to celebrate the holiday, we were just too numb.
Christmas 2010 found us slowly adjusting to the "new normal" and packing to move into the house we currently reside in, moving a week after the New Year. No point decorating.
Which brings us to... the present.
The boyfriend and I finally just said "fuck it". Our circumstances haven't appreciably changed, but we have a garage full of Christmas decorations and by God we were putting them up, come Hell or high water.
And we did, over the past two weekends.
And I have to say, the end result is... spectacular.
The house is rimmed with tasteful lights, red, green and white. In less skilled hands it could probably look Mexican, but we're pros and the end result is magical. Balls of light line the entryway and in a corner of the yard there's a forest of lighted Christmas trees and a vintage Frosty The Snowman. Capping it all is another vintage yard display, from the 50's, a plastic Santa and his sleigh, pulled by Rudolph, launching itself off the front trellis.
It's like Vegas. But in a good way.
I'm not one to pat us on the back, but I have to say I'm impressed.
And that's what I was thinking as I walked the dogs Sunday evening, admiring our handiwork for the first time in the dark of night. As I was rounding the corner on the way back home, I noticed a car slow and come to a stop in front of our house.
"How cool is that?" I thought. "People admiring our work!"
And then I heard the yelling.
Soft at first, muffled, in the car. Some sort of domestic dispute.
Just my luck, in a town where everyone is armed.
I was hoping I could just shuffle by and up the driveway, unnoticed in the rage.
Right as I was in front of both our house and the car, the passenger door flew open and a women burst out screaming...
"FUCK YOU KIM, YOU'RE DRUNK".
As an impartial observer, my first thought was... lesbians.
Now, to transcribe what happened next would require typing the "F-word' several dozen times, not to mention the "C-word", and I have to say I'm just not up to the task. Surprising, I know, but it's even too much for me.
So I'll be using asterisks.
"F*** YOU KIM, YOU'RE DRUNK"
There was screaming from Kim in the driver's seat, but I couldn't really make it out. Perhaps because she was drunk.
The passenger seemed to gather her things and then started storming off up the street.
Just then the driver's door opened and Kim appeared.
"F*** YOU BITCH GIVE ME MY F***INK CAR KEYS YOU F***ING C***!!!"
Lovely. Kim was stopped in the center of the street, in front of our house, and it would appear she wasn't going anywhere.
"I'M NOT GIVING YOU YOUR F***KING KEYS, KIM, BECAUSE YOUR TOO F***ING DRINK TO DRIVE!"
"GIVE ME MY F***CKING KEYS YOU F***ING BITCH. I HAVE YOUR F***CKING WALLET, I'LL F***CKIN F*** YOU UP. BITCH!"
"NO YOU DON'T KIM, YOU F***CKING DUMBASS BITCH. I HAVE MY WALLET. YOU'RE TOO F***ING DRUNK!!!"
"WHAT THE F*** AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY CAR YOU C***!?!?!
"YOU'RE A BIG GIRL KIM, PUSH IT TO THE F***ING SIDE OF THE ROAD"
Yup, lesbians.
It continued for awhile, getting louder and louder as the passenger, who's name we never learn, walked further down the street.
At that point the dogs were scared and I wasn't about to get involved so I hustled everyone into the house and prayed there wouldn't be a knock on the door from Kim looking for assistance.
About an hour later, I peeked through the blinds and the car was still there. No sign of Kim, but I imagined her sitting on the curb nursing a 40.
An hour after that, before we went to bed, I checked again and the car hadn't moved. But the next morning it was gone.
Maybe it's the holiday spirit, but I like to think the two of them managed to patch things up, kiss and make up and continued on their tipsy way.
But the reality is probably that Kim pushed the car all the way home. Trust me, if you saw her, you'd know she could do it.
