The story that ran in our Life section recently about disastrous Thanksgivings brought memories -- and not good ones.
The Christmas of 2005 gave me a good tale to tell and, if nothing else, this column. (I invite you to e-mail me your tales -- and if I get enough, we'll do a story about them.)
It started out as the cheeriest of Christmases.
It was the first Christmas dinner ever at our house. It was a smaller than usual gathering, but it was still a big deal to me and my wife, Judy.
We planned our menu, bought food -- my wife even bought a set of Calphalon cookware to ensure it all turned out right.
The house looked good, the food was in the oven -- then water began backing up in the guest bathroom.
It turns out that the object my kid had put into an upstairs toilet was now blocking the main sewer pipe -- the pipe where the gray water was supposed to go.
I called my brother. "Hey, Lou -- oh, Merry Christmas to you, too. Listen, dinner is gonna be a little later than we thought. Give us an extra hour."
I started soaking up the water with old towels, but it kept coming.
I got the good towels.
I shut off the water, thinking that would help. But all that did was stop us from cooking.
I called my brother again.
"Lou? Sorry, but we're gonna have to move the dinner to your house. Also, can you come over now and bring towels?"
My brother spent the best part of his Christmas Day mopping up dirty water instead of eating turkey.
As we were preparing to bring the food to my brother's house, I noticed my wife propping herself against a wall.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I feel lightheaded," she said. "And I'm having trouble breathing."
I called my brother again.
"Lou, here's the deal. We're coming over, but just to drop off the kids. I have to take Judy to the hospital."
After several hours at WakeMed North, we learned that it was an anxiety attack and we were sent home.
After a stop at a pharmacy, we picked up our kids, came home and foraged for food in the fridge.
If you can top that (or even come close) shoot me a line.
One day, we'll all look back and laugh.
