Christmas in my house was something.

I knew I was in trouble when I bumped into Santa Claus on Christmas Eve and he was wearing a Holstein black and white snowsuit with a “Got Milk?” t-shirt underneath.

Either that was Waltham’s Eugene Anderson or Them Adams Folks must have hired one of the Smith brothers to do that.

On Christmas morning, I went to check my stocking and discovered a reindeer had filled it.

Don’t ask.

With Christmas Day at hand, I decided to go to church. Besides, Easter was still a long way off.

I wandered into a Catholic church, whose name I conveniently forget.

After the service, I found myself in a long line of people. I thought they were headed for coffee and donuts like my Lutheran friends do.

Instead, I found myself outside the confessional box.

When I got home, I decided to work on my retelling of a famous Christmas legend.

As the story goes, four of Santa’s elves got sick and the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones. Santa began to feel pre-Christmas pressure.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa her mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out.

When he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.

Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drunk all the cider and hidden the liquor.

Just then the doorbell rang, and an irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said very cheerfully, “Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn’t this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?”

It brought tears to my eyes just thinking how much the kids would love hearing about the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

(Readers: If this is an affront to your sensibilities, turn to the crossword puzzle or read the classifieds. There’s more.)

The grandchildren were not due for another couple of hours, so I got out a sacred recipe for Grandma’s Jack Daniel’s Christmas Cookies.

All you need is:

1 cup of water

1 tsp baking soda

1 cup of sugar

1 tsp salt

1 cup of brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 cup nuts

2 cups of dried fruit

1 bottle Jack Daniel’s Whiskey.

The instructions are simple: Sample the Jack to check quality. Take a large bowl.

Check the Jack again to be sure it is of the highest quality,

Pour one level cup and drink.

Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.

Add one peastoon of sugar. Beat again.

At this point it’s best to make sure the whiskey is still OK, so try another cup just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy.

Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

Pick the frigging fruit off the floor.

Mix on the turner.

If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaters just pry it loose with a drewscriver.

Sample the Jack to check for tonsisticity.

Next, sift two cups of salt, or something.

Check the Jack Daniel’s.

Now shift the lemon juice and strain the nuts.

Add one table.

Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.

Greash the oven.

Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.

Don’t forget to beat off the turner.

Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the Dack Janiel’s and make sure to put the stove in the wishdasher.

Wash everybody a Cherry Mistmas  and NappyMew Hear!