Nine more days to pre-order!

Nine more days!  Mission of Christmas is waiting for your pre-order at AmazonBarnes and Noble, or the Samhain website!

This also means it’s time for the latest installment of the holiday fun with my family! I hope you’ve been enjoying the posts so far, they certainly have been fun to write.

Today’s adventure in my family history of goofiness comes from my mother. Well, I can’t call this one total goofiness, because I’ve learned that my mother’s not the only one who does this.

Doesn’t mean it’s still not funny as heck.

Okay, so picture this.

It’s early December, and I’m at home. I have to call my mom about a Christmas present for my husband.

Anyway, this is the conversation:

“Hi, Mom?”

“Yes?” Crinkle crinkle through the phone.

What in the world is she doing? “I was calling about that present for Bob you were asking about?”

Crinkle crinkle. “Oh yes. What size shirt does he need?” More crinkling sounds.

“XXL. Mom, what are you doing?” I ask, because I can’t for the life of me figure out what that noise is.


Uh huh, sure, I think. “Mom, what is that crinkle noise.”

My mother lets out this long, exaggerated sigh. I practically feel it through the phone. “If you must know, I’m ironing my tissue paper.”

Pause. (Because I’m trying not to laugh.) “Oh, okay. That makes sense then,” I say, mumbling as I bite my cheek. Because I’m seriously about to lose it.

“Is there anything else?” she asks with a very unappreciative tone.

I can’t help it, I’m trying not to laugh. Because who does that? Seriously? She’s ironing the tissue paper??? I knew she could be frugal, but really? “No. I think that’s it,” I said. We say our goodbyes, and I hang up. And I screech with laughter.

“Oh my God, I have to call my brother,” I say as I wipe the tears out of my eyes. My brother lives five hours away, and doesn’t get to have these moments with my parents. He forgets that they’re both goofballs. Well, he doesn’t forget, he just doesn’t get to experience them as often as I do, being a mere twenty minutes away. Mom right now is the queen goofball, and I have to tell him about it.

“‘ello?” my brother answers his cell.

“Oh my God, Nate. You’re not going to believe what Mom’s doing right now!” I say, spitting it out between little bursts of laughter.


“She’s ironing her tissue paper!”

My brother roars with laughter. I can just envision him bent over, he’s laughing so hard. I hear him calling to his wife. He puts the cell phone on speaker.  “Honey, guess what my mother’s doing right now!”

“What?” she asks.

“She’s ironing her tissue paper!” My brother bursts out in laughter.

My sister-in-law merely chuckles a little.

“What, you don’t think that’s funny?” my brother asks.

“Well, I do that sometimes too,” she says, very quietly.

This, of course, had me busting at the seams. “Oh good grief, Nate! You married your mother!”

My brother cries out the indignant scream of shock and agony at the comedy of the situation.

So, of course, because I have to share, I immediately call my mother back.

“Oh Mom, you’re not going to believe this!” I begin telling her about the conversation with my brother and his wife, and my sister-in-law’s confession.

“Well,” my mother said, feeling a little vindicated. “I knew I liked her.”

(On a side note… I did purchase–and wrap and put under the tree–a package of new tissue paper for her. If memory serves, I believe she scratched her nose with her middle finger too, when she opened it… I can’t be positive, I was too busy laughing. My father, meanwhile, kept asking why I would wrap tissue paper and put it under the tree. I don’t know if it was ever explained to him.)

So, do you iron your tissue paper? Or make your own bows? Or save the wrapping paper?

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