Posing As Normal© The Humor of Mary Tompsett

Homer for the Holidays ........Said the shepherd boy to the little lamb... ........do I smell like you smell? ........My annual holiday spirit quickly degenerates to one part nostalgia to five parts goofy. In 2006 I mailed a thousand retreat flyers to “Welcome the Lard into your hearts!” One typo, and hate mail poured in from 354 clergy, 110 cardiologists, and two dairy farmers. In 2007 my seasonal funk yielded a centerpiece comprised of two chunks of coal and a carrot in a bowl full of water. Frosty vs. climate change. ........This year, I’m striving for a sense of positive, childlike surprise. Actually, the first surprise was that mice had partied all summer in my box of decorations. Being a deeply spiritual person, I took this as a sign from God to fling a strand of lights over the TV and call it a day. ........Determined to boost my mood, however, I taped a “Thin Ice” sign on the fish aquarium, and then sank “Skater” Barbie to the bottom of the tank, eyes bulging in her signature vapid stare. And it came to pass that mine spirit perked right up! With joyful heart, I moussed my dreadlocks into a righteous rack of reindeer antlers. Yea, the wearing of turtlenecks causeth all manner of sorrow. ........I’ve always wanted to string a popcorn rope for the tree—or, in my case, the TV. The popcorn thing looked so fun in “Little Women.” Girls in long frocks, sewing and flirting with Charlton Heston. Or was that in Cleopatra? Anyway, in real life, popcorn seeds are damn hard to sew. And blood makes ’em real slippery. I finally stanched the bleeding, thanks to my Victoria’s Secret welding mitts—the ones with naughty peekaboo flaps that reveal thumb cleavage. Say what? The corn should be popped?? Oh. But all is well, my darlings! I scrapped the popcorn and stitched a rope of cheese curls on my sewing machine. ........My plan to make cutout cookies hit the skids after flashbacks to the cookies of my childhood: incinerated stars, broken bells, headless sheep, and amputee Santas, all waiting to be rehabbed with gobs of pastel frostings. Weren’t we taught in Physics class that white is the sum of all colors? Well, surprise! Mix together all frostings, and we get fungal green. Clearly, Einstein knew zip about baking. ........Martha Stewart’s directions to create angel ornaments called for everyday household items: bodies made of 6th century Mayan parchment, the wings from Arctic butterflies, and hanging loops out of albino tuna whiskers. Okey dokey. ........I tore into 40 rolls of toilet paper to use the cardboard tubes as bodies, then duct-taped “wings” of shoulder pads I’ve collected since ‘89. And the hanging loops? Hey, not a problem for those of us who save used dental floss. Mint. ........Embroidering the little faces was out, because I ran out of thread while sewing cheese curls. So I dug into my cache of Homer Simpson face stickers, the ones I unintentionally bought at a holiday auction when raising a welder’s mitt to straighten my dreadlock antlers. ........Martha suggested angel gowns of pleated snakeskin, but Wal-Mart was sold out. I’d have sewn the gowns but (a) no thread, in case you weren’t listening; and (b) some fool gummed up my machine with cheese curls. ........Lo! In a bathroom cabinet lurked a dusty baggie filled with old transdermal medication patches! Had I worn them to quit smoking years ago? Or to goose my hormones? Whatever, I slapped a patch on each angel and then glitter-sprayed the whole damn celestial herd. Halleluiah! And it shall be written thusly: Wise is the woman who doth save her crap. ........Ideally, angels by Martha should look androgynous, delicate and (ahem) pure. Mine, however, glitter like tiny drag queens and, I dare say, those patches are not nicotine. ........For, what to my wondering eyes should appear… ........but miniature breasts on the Homers—oh, dear!