Kitschy Christmas Catalogs

I come from a shopping family. Acquisition of useless but adorable objects was our regular group activity. Now I have scruples regarding consumerism. In fact, I have far more scruples than dollars. So this is the time of year I control my old addiction by reading the holiday catalogs that flock to my mailbox. I can't get enough of them. It's like a nicotine patch for my wallet. No matter how overpriced or ridiculous the stuff is, I always find at least one thing in every catalog that makes me say, "Hey, that is a good idea!" Case in point: who could not appreciate a red plastic figure named "Al?" You put Al in a pot of spaghetti and after exactly seven minutes, when the pasta is "Al Dente," he will play 30 seconds of an aria from Aida. "No more guessing or tasting a hot noodle!" according to Solutions. Great idea, right? But would you pay $30 plus shipping for Al? I'll stick with burning my tongue on noodles.

Sure, I read the high-class catalogs, like Wireless and Frontgate. But my real favorites are the corny, kitschy catalogs like Miles Kimball and Harriet Carter. (Am I the only one who cried when Lillian Vernon went out of business?) Last week I found a Carter classic. Page 70, top right: the "Merry Christmas from Heaven Ornament." It's a hanging tree ornament with a place for a photo of a departed loved one. It is inscribed with this poem:

I love you all dearly.

Now don't shed a tear.

I'm spending my Christmas

with Jesus this year.

A Christmas ornament for dead people! Brilliant. It started me thinking about other ornaments or holiday cards for "unique" situations. How about an ornament for an ex-husband? Something like this:

Merry Christmas to my EX.

I'm glad that you're not here.

'Cause I've spent the alimony

On my new boyfriend this year.

How about a Hannukah card for a Jewish jerk?

We broke the glass.

We sipped the wine.

I thought our life would be so fine.

But you screwed around with my best friend,

And so our marriage had to end.

You expected me to cry,

But not a tear escaped my eye.

A GREAT MIRACLE HAPPENED HERE:

I am doing fine without you, dear!

Finally, what about a holiday card for that freeloading relative who barges in every year?

Every holiday you come knocking.

You never bring nuttin',

Not even a stocking.

You eat all the dip,

Drop your towels on the floor,

And your slutty wife is such a bore.

It's like sticking our heads inside a noose.

We've had enough of this abuse.

So this year the keys are under the mat.

We got a kennel to board the cat.

Blow up the Aero bed by mouth.

We booked a cruise and headed south!

I invite you; implore you -- please join in and send me your alternative holiday wishes for those you care about -- in "different" ways. Maybe next year we could start our own catalog. Lillian Vernon, your bankruptcy should not be in vain!

I Married An Einstein

Really? Seriously. My mother-in-law's maiden name is Einstein. Gudula Einstein Amerikaner. Now nearing ninety, Gudula lived in Stuttgart, Germany until 1939. Is she related to the Albert Einstein? "Probably," she says. Gudula is almost 90 and sees no reason to care about this issue. She is more interested in going to the 99 Cent Store. I say: what about all those Baby Einstein royalties?! Think of all the 99 Cent tzotchkes we could buy! Alas, we have no genealogy studies or DNA to prove any connection. Certainly my husband is bright and witty. Our sons agree, but when they looked at their S.A.T. scores, they immediately knew the math gene did not survive the lengthy genetic journey. I am a descendant of Russian, Swedish and Hungarian peasants. On my side our biggest claim to fame is my Uncle Eddie Leonard who was a champion featherweight boxer for a few years and later became a nightclub entrepreneur and owner of the now defunct, but formerly famous chain of Washington, D.C. "Eddie Leonard" sandwich shops. More on Uncle Eddie another time. The subs were great, by the way.

I believe that I do have probable cause to believe I did marry an Einstein. We have been married almost 30 years, and I did not marry my husband because of this "relativity." I was unaware of any possible connection. The name "Amerikaner" was enough for a newlywed to deal with; I never even asked his mother's maiden name. I fell in love with Erik because of chemistry; not physics. And I am still wild over his terrific sense of humor, warmth and gentle nature. (I don't believe any of these traits are part of Albert's personality profile.) However, several years ago I came upon a photo of Einstein in his 20's; about the same age as my husband when we met. I gasped. OMG! It was the same face. My husband is a high school teacher (no, not physics) and even his students remarked on the uncanny resemblance. They discovered similar photos when they were doing research on Einstein, Albert. They are here so you can judge for yourself.

My husband does collect Einstein books, pictures and even the occasional Einstein bobblehead (my personal favorite). Fame is fleeting, especially when it's not yours. How has the possibility of maybe perhaps having Einstein for a distant relative changed my life? Not much. But every time I see one of those Baby Einstein books, I rack up a psychic "Ka-ching!" You can't blame me for trying.