Santa's Magic Kittens, Contest Winner, Thank You.

Clearly, I was unable to announce the contest winners on December 23rd, as promised. It turns out I have a tendency to get bogged down by blogging muses, aka my family, and ironically this prevents me from blogging all together. How was I to know they'd need more attention during Christmas? Those little attention pigs act like Christmas is all about them, for Pete's sake.

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I have to say the ghetto santa that drops off second-rate toys for poor people's children did a pretty good job this year of tricking our kids into thinking they raked it in.

I mean, take a look at what he dropped off:



You can't tell by looking at the photo, but these are magic kittens. After all the presents had been unwrapped (at 6:55 a.m.), Alex spotted one more present tucked in the back, behind the tree. He sat among the carnage of mutilated red and green paper and created another paper casualty, spilling two black cat beanie babies and a box of glittery dust onto the carpet.

"What is this?" he said, puzzled.

"Look, there's a note," said Steve, swiping up a folded yellow piece of notebook paper.

"Dear Alex and Christopher," he read, "Because you have been so good this year, I have selected you to receive two magic cats. If you follow the instructions below correctly, these toy kittens will become real."

As per the instructions, they placed a kitten on each of their beds, sprinkled them with the magic dust, and went downstairs to turn on the Christmas lights outside. When they returned, they ran upstairs and opened their bedroom doors. Two fluffy black kittens ran out into the hallway and freaked both boys out.

Christopher ran into our bedroom and hid under the covers, while Alex said, "I'm a little scared and freaked out right now. I have to go to my room."

He went inside and shut the door. Less than two seconds later, his bedroom door opened and he stuck his head out. "Can we keep them?" he asked.

After that, the kittens were less enthusiastic about the boys than the boys were about them, but eventually they came around. After a full day's playing with their new playdough kits, cowboy costumes, racetrack sets, and a scary, heavily armed robot from Grandma (all to the tune of Alex's new CD of the Jackson Five's greatest hits), he and I went to his room to read him the new books he'd received and settle down for the night. Just as I had opened the first book, one of the kittens came in. She curled up beside Alex's head, and they fell asleep together.

From the non-magical side of things, I have to say this was one of our better ideas. Steve and a pet store owner traded the kittens and a year's worth of food and litter for advertising. The pet store owner also hooked us up with a vet who will trade us vaccinations and the spay/neuter procedure.* Steve picked them up on Saturday right before the pet shop closed for the holiday, and he distracted the kids while I snuck the cat carrier, food, and litter box upstairs and locked them in our bathroom. They had little jingle bell collars around their necks, which jingled so quietly I didn't think it would be a problem to keep them on. They were, understandably, a little nervous about being in new surroundings, so I kept the lights low and checked on them periodically, but tried not to get too chummy too quickly.

Alex woke up at THREE IN THE MORNING, having fallen asleep and decided that since he'd slept, it was an acceptable time to start opening presents. Steve flailed around, trying to come up with a reason to tell Alex to go back to bed.

"But you said Santa wouldn't come if I didn't fall asleep. I fell asleep. Now I'm awake. So presents are here and we can open them now."

Finally, I'd had enough.

"Look," I said crankily, "I just went downstairs fifteen minutes ago for a drink of water, and there weren't any presents there yet. Santa's probably circling over our house right now, but he can't come in because you're awake. If you stay awake until daylight, you've blown it. So you need to go back to bed RIGHT NOW."

Steve escorted Alex back to his room, and he tried so hard to fall asleep, and finally did around five. An hour and a half later, the kittens woke up and began wrestling. They hurled themselves at the bathroom door and scratched at it wildly, the bells around their necks clanging away.

Christopher sat up straight in bed, terrified. "What's that?" he whispered. "What's that noise?"

My mind raced. This was definitely a new noise, and if you didn't know what was causing it, a scary one.

"Uh...tree branch?" I offered weakly, knowing full well our neighborhood doesn't have any trees. Then, inspiration.

"Christopher!" I hissed excitedly. "I know what that noise is!"

"What?" he excitedly whispered back.

"It's reindeer feet! There are reindeer on our roof right now! Santa's here! Santa's here!"

Christopher screamed with a hysterical excitement and hurled himself off the bed. He burst into Alex's room, the door crashing loudly against the bedroom wall.

"Alex!" he screamed. "Alex! Santa is here! We heard him! We heard the reindeer feet! He's real! He's real! Get up! Get up, Alex! It's time for presents!" And he shot out the door and down the stairs, where he stood in front of the tree and deleriously clapped his hands.

Alex and Steve groggily came down the stairs, and they made so much noise it drowned out any more potential kitten sounds.

After the dust had settled and the magic kittens had materialized, Alex and Chris told all our relatives via the phone about the magic kittens, including their three-year-old cousin Petey.

"Waida minnut," said Petey to Christopher, looking at his mother pointedly, "tell me again about the magic kitties. How they get to your house? Santa? Hm."

After the kids and cats had collapsed, exhausted, for the night, Steve and I cracked mean jokes about getting rid of the cats and bringing the beanie babies, who were locked in my hope chest, back.

"Oh, sorry, kids. I guess you two just weren't good enough."

And we cackled with cruel, inappropriate laughter.

And when I went to bed myself, I started thinking about what a truly awful year this has been, and how long the bad stuff has been dragging out, and how good yesterday was, and how it sometimes it seems like the good stuff is so fleeting, like the short years when children believe in magic, and how for just a second, you are the most powerful wizard who ever lived. How you can hide from them all the misery that piles up on your shoulders, how you keep from them all the bill collectors and how close you are to losing not just the only home they've ever known, but even the bed they sleep in. How they don't know about family squabbles, or that the water heater is broken and can't be replaced yet, but their baths are hot because you fill up the tub with water you boiled on the stove. That's the year-round magic we do, ending in the show-stopping number at the end of the year, when we turn stuffed animals into the real deal for them, and you look in their eyes, and you think, Hot damn, we really pulled it off this time. They think they're the richest kids in town.

This was the merriest Christmas of my life, and I hope your holiday was the same.
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*One of each, since we have a boy and a girl. They're littermates, which always reminds me of my friend Dan's hilariously naïve belief, when he acquired two mixed-gender littermates, that there was an incest taboo in the feline world similar to our own. "They won't have sex," he protested to my friend Lisa and me, "they're brother and sister!" He was also completely unprepared for the sheer aggressiveness of a female cat in heat, as she not only demanded sex from her brother, but from Dan, too. I think he spent that period barricaded from her in his bedroom, hiding under the bed and screaming, "No! No, you fuzzy whore! I'm gay! And I'm not a cat! For the love of God, get your vagina out of my face!" Ah, the lessons life teaches you.)

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And now, about that contest. I want you all to know how much I love having these pseudo-monthly (I try to make them monthly, but that doesn't always happen.)
contests. I love all your entries, and honestly, your participation in them is such a great gift and so much fun. It's also nice that nobody complains about the completely unprofessional, whimsical way the contests are judged. Your acceptance of my total lack of standards is refreshing. Take this month's contest, for example. I received about 75 entries, from the completely unfunny and horrible to the horrible and hilarious. I decided, upon reading them through, that I was going to abruptly change the rules and not tell anyone, just like I usually do, plus add extra prizes for random reasons, like I also do. Because I am unable to put both the horrible and hilarious in the same category, I decided to award the Rabbit Pearl in the paint-coated box to the person who put forth the most effort and told the best story. With this new, secret criteria firmly decided upon, the winner became clear. The Rabbit goes to Jason, who single-handedly destroyed Christmas for not only himself, but for his wife, too. Here is Jason's winning entry:

my wife and i were on our way to latvia and other baltic and scandinavian countries (my brother was in latvia at the time, and so we were going to stay with him). it was christmas eve day. we had just opened christmas presents a day early at my mother-in-law's house a few hours from chicago, and were flying out of o'hare. but we don't live in chicago...we live in a city about a half-day's drive from chicago. we had driven to chicago to fly out of there because it was cheaper, and we parked my car at a friend's house.

so...we get to o'hare, all excited about our trip. until. until. until.

until we realized that i didn't have my passport with me. actually, i did have my passport with me, but it was my passport from when i was 9 years old which is frowned upon by customs agents once you're in your 30's. we were very, very early at the airport, and i actually had time to accept the airline's offer of a cheap flight home to my own city, where i took a cab home to get my real passport. except. except. except.

except my passport wasn't there. i looked everywhere, and couldn't find it. meanwhile (on christmas eve day, mind you) my wife is alone in chicago where the airline generously offered to let her wait in the executive lounge. i eventually gave up.

so, i flew back to chicago (my wife can't drive my stick-shift car) on the most dejected plane ride of my life. instead of flying to stockholm on christmas eve, we spent the night in downer's grove at my friends house. instead of spending christmas in europe, we spent it on the bleak road driving home from chicago. because of my stupidity. but actually....

but actually it was because of my supposed brilliance. my brilliant move (of a year earlier) was to put my passport in a compartment of my travel pouch thinking that i would never leave the country without that travel pouch. i had only used that pouch once before. i didn't know it well. the pouch designed for a passport is kind of hidden. but i had completely forgotten i had put it there, which is why i couldn't find it. you see the punchline here, right? i had the pouch on my person the whole time! i unknowingly carried my passport to o'hare, back to my own city, back to o'hare, back to my own city. i ruined my wife's christmas (and my own, of course) on the single most stupid move of my entire life.

i was forgiven by my gracious wife because she generously claimed that the incident sounded more like something she would do than something i would do. and we were able to use the airline credit for a different europe trip on the following year. but that didn't really help me feel better at the time.

so, i'm hoping you pick my story. because it's my wife who will benefit from the prize much more than me. i feel like it's the least i could do (two years later) to make up for my unbelievably too-smart-for-my-own-good passport storage choice.

Who is this man married to? Steve read this entry and immediately said, "His wife forgave him? You would have killed me if I'd ruined your trip to Europe and your Christmas at the same time!"

And he's right! I would have. Not only did I find this story enjoyable, I also was driven by the strong belief that his wife needs to have something good come out of this botched Christmas, and I think a Rabbit Pearl would be just the thing for her. So congratulations to Jason and Wife of Jason.

Several of you were touched by Saartje's Christmas plight. Saartje wrote My husband announced that he wants to divorce me just days after Thanksgiving, before we were even home again from visiting family. Suddenly, I'm single-parenting an 18-month-old and trying to find a job to support us -- except for the next three weeks, when husband will be taking our son to see husband's family. I will be alone for both Christmas and New Year's. I will not get to see my son on Christmas.

I was touched by the immediate response of Togolosh, who wrote I had a similarly shitty Christmas last year. My Dad died earlier in the year, my wife left me for another man, I was broke, unable to visit family, and on the verge of losing my job. I ended up watching a bunch of videos (stay the hell away from regular TV - they will try blowing sunshine up your ass) and eating microwaved mystery kibble. The highlight of the day was the catnip I got for the cats - They loved it and some of their joy rubbed off on me.

If you'd like a sympathetic ear drop me a line at togolosh(at)gmail.com.invalid (without the obvious jiggery, of course).

Not to turn this into a divorce misery thread, but you'll find that talking to people really helps, and there are unfortunately lots of us out there who've experienced similar things. I made a great friend the day after my wife dropped the bomb on me - shellshocked, disoriented, I wandered into Starbucks. The fellow behind the counter said something like "How can I help you?" and I responded "My wife just left me for another man, and I'd like a cup of coffee." The look on his face was priceless. Once he got over the shock we ended up chatting and developed a great friendship.

Togolosh was the only person who participated in the contest without entering it, thinking solely of helping someone else rather than himself. I thought this was one of the kindest things I've seen anyone do, and am awarding Togolosh with a $25 gift certificate to the store to use as he sees fit.

As for Saartje herself, a poster who would like to remain anonymous has contributed money to purchase a gift for her to give her a holiday boost. So Saartje, if you are interested in receiving a Water Dancer, and how dare you not be, please e-mail me. The anonymous donor, who says she's walked in your shoes and hopes to give your holiday season a pick-me-up, will not have access to your name or address. In turn I will also be rewarding this donor with a Water Dancer as well.

Congratulations to all our winners, and a million thanks to everybody who stops by One Good Thing.

Finally, I want to thank the people who donated money to my tip jar. Your donation arrives in our inbox anonymously, so I don't know who's giving what unless you tell me, but I wanted you to know that you all bought us a new water heater, and once we save up for a plumber, it's you guys who will have enabled me to scald the top layer of skin off my body, which ranks up with reading about communist dictators as one of my favorite hobbies.

Have a wonderful holiday, and a very happy new year. Thank you again.