jobob
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
Disclaimer and Author's Notes: This is fiction. B's based on Bono. I don't know Bono. I tried to meet him outside an arena or two during my Tour of the Vertigo Tour. I was soclose to him one night in the ellipse. But we still don't know each other. This is going to be a short and sweet chapter -- I'm busy this week, and I'm looking to finish another, longer, holiday-themed chapter. Still, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas ...
Yes, I have an Interference journal. I was writing about my Vertigo Tour experiences. I'm sure I'll write about other things now that third leg's over for me.
Click on View Journal to see if, when, and what.
A few days ago, in a corner of your basement, you found your old artificial Christmas tree and your decorations. You always liked real trees. So does B -- or so you think he's said. But, you and B decided it would be easier to put up an artificial tree this year. You made a date with B to put the tree up in your living room Wednesday night. And you went out to the store to pick up some new miniature lights.
"Good evening, darlin'. Where's that tree box?" your man says when he walks in the door.
"In the basement across from the old tool bench," you reply as you finish dinner. "I've already carried up the decorations."
Soon, as you're finishing frying hamburgers, you see B carrying a large red plastic box with "CHRISTMAS TREE" written in black ink on the sides, up the basement stairs. "Just put it across from the love seat and come to dinner, honeybee," you tell him.
*****
After dinner, you and B begin emptying the box as you explain to him how your family assembled the tree.
"Now, this tree is old, so it may not look as good as, or assemble as quickly as, the newer ones in stores. First, we have to find the two poles and put them together. Then we have to put the ends of the tree branches in the pole. When I took the tree down last year, I did what my dad always did when I was a kid and remembered to group the branches together by color, so we can match the colors on the ends of the branches up to the colors on the holes on the pole. And the little curved round pieces of needles are supposed to cover up the bare parts of the pole, so you can't see through to the pole."
"Doesn't your family have directions for this thing?" B asks.
"We lost them a long time ago. Don't worry, B, I've put or helped put this old thing together every Christmas for years. It's actually not that hard."
*****
An hour or so of color-matching and swearing later, a six-foot-tall green shape which looks more or less like a pine tree is standing near your living room window. You fight the urge to say "It's not a bad little tree, Charlie Brown. It just needs a little love." You don't even know if they show "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on Irish television.
"It's not a bad tree, J," B tells you as you stand before your creation.
"It just needs a little love," you say, breaking out in laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"Honey, I'll explain it to you. C'mon, let's plug in the lights I bought and make sure they all light up before we string them on the tree. That was one of your late father-in-law's old tricks." You take the boxes of 100 bright white lights and sit down next to the electrical outlet. "Okay, this string's good. So's this one ...."
*****
The lights lit and strung around the tree, you unpack your decorations and hand them to B, who places them on the branches.
"My stepmother gave me a lot of Christmas decorations over the years," you tell B. You hand him an angel. "This was the first one." Then one with your university's mascot on it. "She gave me this one when I first went to college. Not all of them have significance to them. Some were just nice designs she found."
"I don't have many Christmas decorations," B tells you. "I moved so much over the years, and I was alone so often, I didn't put up very many Christmas trees."
"Aw, B." You hug him. "We can't just put my things on it, then. We need to find some way for you to decorate the tree -- our tree -- too."
"I did display a nativity scene every year, though. The true meaning of Christmas, and all."
"My mother used to put those up. I'd love for you to set one up for us. Do you still have yours?"
*****
You sit in front of the decorated tree, its white lights twinkling, topped with a star B made out of cardboard and tinfoil. B's sketch of a nativity scene is on a table in the corner. Your head is on B's shoulder, his arm is around you. The local radio station which has been playing non-stop Christmas music since the day after Halloween is (finally) on your stereo. You can see snow falling through your living room window. You're both sipping wine. It's all very romantic.
"Not bad for an artifical tree which l first thought looked like a bunch of green toilet brushes," B tells you.
You laugh. "Actually, I saw this newspaper article the other day which said the first artificial Christmas tree was made by a toilet brush company."
"So your parents bought your tree from that company?" You laugh again.
"B, it is an old tree. Real trees are better. They smell great, and they're better for the environment. But I'm allergic, and we're leaving the country the day after Christmas. We can't leave a real tree in the house without water while we're gone, it would be a fire hazard. And you wouldn't want to have to take a tree down and out of the house while we're celebrating Christmas and leaving for Dublin, would you?"
"No, love. Better to have this one up now and take it down after New Year's, when we're back home."
"And next year, we can either get a real one or buy a better fake one."
"You're already planning for next Christmas, you clever girl." B kisses your cheek. "There was something I once imagined I'd say to you on a night like this, something I once thought I'd say at this time of year, when we knew each other about this long."
"What did you want to say to me, B?"
"Late last summer, I had an idea that maybe, if things kept going so well between us, I'd propose to you at Christmastime. On a quiet, cozy night like this."
"Sounds like it would have been very nice." You kiss him. "In case you're wondering, I think I would have said yes."
"You think you would have said yes?" B teases you as you slide off the couch and onto the living room floor.
"Maybe I would have wanted to see the ring first. Maybe I would have wanted a little more time to get to know you," you tease back. "Hey, we're almost underneath the Christmas tree. I like the idea of having you underneath my Christmas tree."
"Ever make out underneath a Christmas tree?" B asks you before he kisses your neck.
"It would be a first for me."
"Me too. A first for our first Christmas together. Merry Christmas, J." He says as he kisses you.
"Happy Christmas, B." you say as you move to the bottom of the tree, and look under the tree. "I don't think we can fit under here as well as gifts can, honey."
"Want to settle for kissing in front of the tree, then?"
"That'll work for me." So you lie in front of the tree, kissing and hugging each other.
There's still ten days until Christmas, and you feel like you're already opening your favorite toy.
Yes, I have an Interference journal. I was writing about my Vertigo Tour experiences. I'm sure I'll write about other things now that third leg's over for me.
Click on View Journal to see if, when, and what.A few days ago, in a corner of your basement, you found your old artificial Christmas tree and your decorations. You always liked real trees. So does B -- or so you think he's said. But, you and B decided it would be easier to put up an artificial tree this year. You made a date with B to put the tree up in your living room Wednesday night. And you went out to the store to pick up some new miniature lights.
"Good evening, darlin'. Where's that tree box?" your man says when he walks in the door.
"In the basement across from the old tool bench," you reply as you finish dinner. "I've already carried up the decorations."
Soon, as you're finishing frying hamburgers, you see B carrying a large red plastic box with "CHRISTMAS TREE" written in black ink on the sides, up the basement stairs. "Just put it across from the love seat and come to dinner, honeybee," you tell him.
*****
After dinner, you and B begin emptying the box as you explain to him how your family assembled the tree.
"Now, this tree is old, so it may not look as good as, or assemble as quickly as, the newer ones in stores. First, we have to find the two poles and put them together. Then we have to put the ends of the tree branches in the pole. When I took the tree down last year, I did what my dad always did when I was a kid and remembered to group the branches together by color, so we can match the colors on the ends of the branches up to the colors on the holes on the pole. And the little curved round pieces of needles are supposed to cover up the bare parts of the pole, so you can't see through to the pole."
"Doesn't your family have directions for this thing?" B asks.
"We lost them a long time ago. Don't worry, B, I've put or helped put this old thing together every Christmas for years. It's actually not that hard."
*****
An hour or so of color-matching and swearing later, a six-foot-tall green shape which looks more or less like a pine tree is standing near your living room window. You fight the urge to say "It's not a bad little tree, Charlie Brown. It just needs a little love." You don't even know if they show "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on Irish television.
"It's not a bad tree, J," B tells you as you stand before your creation.
"It just needs a little love," you say, breaking out in laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"Honey, I'll explain it to you. C'mon, let's plug in the lights I bought and make sure they all light up before we string them on the tree. That was one of your late father-in-law's old tricks." You take the boxes of 100 bright white lights and sit down next to the electrical outlet. "Okay, this string's good. So's this one ...."
*****
The lights lit and strung around the tree, you unpack your decorations and hand them to B, who places them on the branches.
"My stepmother gave me a lot of Christmas decorations over the years," you tell B. You hand him an angel. "This was the first one." Then one with your university's mascot on it. "She gave me this one when I first went to college. Not all of them have significance to them. Some were just nice designs she found."
"I don't have many Christmas decorations," B tells you. "I moved so much over the years, and I was alone so often, I didn't put up very many Christmas trees."
"Aw, B." You hug him. "We can't just put my things on it, then. We need to find some way for you to decorate the tree -- our tree -- too."
"I did display a nativity scene every year, though. The true meaning of Christmas, and all."
"My mother used to put those up. I'd love for you to set one up for us. Do you still have yours?"
*****
You sit in front of the decorated tree, its white lights twinkling, topped with a star B made out of cardboard and tinfoil. B's sketch of a nativity scene is on a table in the corner. Your head is on B's shoulder, his arm is around you. The local radio station which has been playing non-stop Christmas music since the day after Halloween is (finally) on your stereo. You can see snow falling through your living room window. You're both sipping wine. It's all very romantic.
"Not bad for an artifical tree which l first thought looked like a bunch of green toilet brushes," B tells you.
You laugh. "Actually, I saw this newspaper article the other day which said the first artificial Christmas tree was made by a toilet brush company."
"So your parents bought your tree from that company?" You laugh again.
"B, it is an old tree. Real trees are better. They smell great, and they're better for the environment. But I'm allergic, and we're leaving the country the day after Christmas. We can't leave a real tree in the house without water while we're gone, it would be a fire hazard. And you wouldn't want to have to take a tree down and out of the house while we're celebrating Christmas and leaving for Dublin, would you?"
"No, love. Better to have this one up now and take it down after New Year's, when we're back home."
"And next year, we can either get a real one or buy a better fake one."
"You're already planning for next Christmas, you clever girl." B kisses your cheek. "There was something I once imagined I'd say to you on a night like this, something I once thought I'd say at this time of year, when we knew each other about this long."
"What did you want to say to me, B?"
"Late last summer, I had an idea that maybe, if things kept going so well between us, I'd propose to you at Christmastime. On a quiet, cozy night like this."
"Sounds like it would have been very nice." You kiss him. "In case you're wondering, I think I would have said yes."
"You think you would have said yes?" B teases you as you slide off the couch and onto the living room floor.
"Maybe I would have wanted to see the ring first. Maybe I would have wanted a little more time to get to know you," you tease back. "Hey, we're almost underneath the Christmas tree. I like the idea of having you underneath my Christmas tree."
"Ever make out underneath a Christmas tree?" B asks you before he kisses your neck.
"It would be a first for me."
"Me too. A first for our first Christmas together. Merry Christmas, J." He says as he kisses you.
"Happy Christmas, B." you say as you move to the bottom of the tree, and look under the tree. "I don't think we can fit under here as well as gifts can, honey."
"Want to settle for kissing in front of the tree, then?"
"That'll work for me." So you lie in front of the tree, kissing and hugging each other.
There's still ten days until Christmas, and you feel like you're already opening your favorite toy.
