I thought the rental car debacle would be our biggest hassle of the holidays, but things managed to get worse. Snow and ice made driving difficult, and below-zero temperatures blasted Indianapolis. It made me wish I was back in Portland, whose weather apparently didn’t fare much better. My wife’s daughter stayed with our dogs and experienced a lengthy ice-related power outage. She usually agrees to stay at our house for two reasons: to watch premium tv channels and to do laundry. She was not able to do either.

Christmas Day was quick to pass following a delicious turkey dinner for seventeen and six excruciating hours of gift opening. This seems to get a bit more excessive every year, as Santa’s Semi pulls up to the door, since the reindeer can’t carry everything that goes under the tree. I got a new Columbia Cubs long-sleeved running shirt that will fit in nicely with my retirement wardrobe, a wine aerator, and a stack of Fandango cards. I’d say they know me pretty well, but unwrapping my take only took about 5 minutes.

I picked up my wife’s gift to me the next day from my sports collector friend. It was the mystery gift that had mounted in anticipation over the last six months. Mostly, it was disbelief that we had spent so much on something unknown, and then waited that long to finally learn what it was. The surprise turned out to be a 1955 Chicago White Sox game-worn, wool jersey with #10 on the back. (See Post#5). I then spent the rest of the afternoon with my cousins and dinner with a good friend. This fabulous day was then rudely interrupted by a call from my wife, whose mother was unexpectedly being admitted to the hospital with what they initially thought was pneumonia. It was reminiscent of Thanksgiving many years ago when her father suddenly passed out in the kitchen and needed an ambulance.

Over the past few days, my poor wife has spent the night in a bed-side chair, after her sister also got sick. While she’s proved to be a loving daughter, I’ve been trying to finish the “jigsaw puzzle from hell” that was started over a year ago. No one seems to work on it unless I’m not in town, so the pressure was on to get it done and off the family-room table. In the meantime, the diagnosis was changed to the very contagious influenza B, and we’ve since worn surgical masks in her presence. It makes me feel like I’m living out a Stephen King novel. On the lighter side, it also reminds me of the letter I wrote to the Baseball Hall of Fame titled, “Who was that Masked Man?” and the reason for my unique Christmas gift.

I’m trying to avoid any hypochondriac tendencies, as I sit across from my masked wife, reeking of hand sanitizer. The only one not wearing a mask in the room is my mother-in-law, who has a nasty cough that neither of us wants to catch. What’s wrong with this picture? Well, it’s her room and she’s having trouble breathing, so they don’t want anything restricting that process, while I’m thinking a gag! When she coughs and wheezes, it makes us both want to hack out a response. The patient also can’t hear and with everyone in masks she can’t even read lips. We write on an erasable board for her, talk in whispers to each other, and try to pass the time in silence. We were so bored at one point that we started to clip and file our nails. Plus, the TV is stuck on one channel, and my wife is exhausted following back-to-back-sleep-deprived nights. Could it possibly be less “Merry” or “Happy” at the end of the year? At least, the masks keep us from continuing to stuff sweets in our mouths.

Our dog has diarrhea back at home (See Post #371), but my wife’s daughter has gracefully agreed to continue watching them while we’re stuck back in Indiana. We had to cancel our return flights, and extend the rental car agreement. Also, we couldn’t make the drive up to see my sister and her kids. They’re sick too! I had the flu a few months ago, so I’m hoping to avoid a repeat, although I don’t have to worry about missing work. All of us have cancelled any New Year’s Eve plans.

We’ll probably end up returning the rental car to Hertz in Indianapolis, rather than Chicago, certainly adding to our growing “Christmas Vacation” expenses, but there’s little chance we’ll encounter “Counter Lady” and her fondness of Cadillacs (See Post #376). I can’t help but think of another holiday movie favorite “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” and comedian Steve Martin’s f***ed interaction with the “Gobble, Gobble, Gobble” rental car counter lady, a comparable experience to ours, come to think of it.

The puzzle was finally finished last night, so it can be put back in the box, and I’ll have little to do but blog and patiently sit in the hospital room wearing a surgical mask. I won’t be able to attend Friday’s leadership meeting, so I’ve set one up here in Indy. I will also miss the Les Schwab Invitational High School Basketball Tournament and left the comp tickets for my buddies locked in the car at the Portland International Airport, adding further to the holiday follies. Finally, the repair of our broken washer has been rescheduled to just after the first of the year, so I’ll try to pack clean laundry for our return home- whenever that might be? Could you please pass the hand sanitizer?