My sister is out of her mind.  That’s okay, really.  She always has been.  It’s like a family thing.  It’s hereditary.  Thank God it’s apparently restricted to the female Moons.

But like my mother and my nieces and a couple of crazy aunts, so too is my sister kind of out there and obsessed with things.  My sister’s obsession is holiday decorating.  I swear, this woman would make billions for Hallmark if they would only name her Creative Director for In-Store Display.  She’s very good.  Still it’s a crazy Moon obsession with her.

I am saying nothing here that she doesn’t already know.  She knows she is crazy about decorating for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Halloween, Easter, Ground Hog’s Day, Consolidation Day, Tuesdays, whatever.  She’s comfortable with her psychosis. 

Well, I kind of enjoy stirring the pot a bit.  I’m talking about making trouble.  Now, I’m not obsessed with it.  I just enjoy it.  I’m a male Moon after all.

So, I kind of take it upon myself to re-decorate a bit when I go home during the holidays or on Consolidation Day, Tuesdays or whatever.  I don’t know why this is so, but it is.  And so I re-decorate.  Not much, you understand. But enough. Laziness is a male Moon obsession. 

My sister seems to think that at holidays like Thanksgiving everything needs to be perfect.  I guess we all have a bit of Walton’s Mountain and Rockwell in us.  So I get it.  But it’s that obsession to make things perfect that drives me.  Okay, so the place looks grand, the table is exquisite, the presentation is fabulous.  Times like that are the perfect times to place between the main entrance and the dining table a fake pile of dog poop on the floor.  Don’t you think?  Oh yeh.  I’ve done that.

My sister usually screams in an apparent serious display of disgust.  But then she laughs.  Talk about mixed signals!  Another male Moon obsession - as long as they laugh even just a bit, our actions are approved. And we continue.

So last week, I was at my sister’s place for Thanksgiving.  The living quarters were a Martha Stewart Fall fantasy.  Beautiful.  And the front door decorations really excited my sister.  There was fall foliage there.  And within the foliage was a little stuffed and orange man she calls, “Leaf Man.”  His arms were spread wide open as if to welcome folks onto the porch and into the holiday.  Several times as we walked into the house, my sister would spread her arms, too, and say, “Welcome, Leaf Man!”  I did mention her obsessions, right?

Well, one of my other obsessions is the burning tobacco leaf.  My place to enjoy those incredible burning leaves during my stay there was on the front porch with Leaf Man.  He and I got to know one another quite well on this trip home.  But I kind of felt sorry for the puny orange guy.  All alone in the decorative leaves on a cold front door, smiling as if nothing was wrong with his life.  And his arms wide open, welcoming no one, but rather begging for help.  “Help me, help me!” he said to me.

So I did.  I bent his left hand toward his mouth and inserted a cigarette into his two-fingered hand.  I positioned his right hand in a familiar yet slightly disturbing Pee-Wee Herman pose.  “Happy Thanksgiving, Leaf Man!” I said.

Leaf Man seemed to smile and thank me.  My sister was appalled, but her endless laughter seemed to disguise quite well her disgust at her younger brother. 

When I left her place to return home after Thanksgiving, my sister waved good-bye to me from the front porch.  Pee-Wee Leaf Man was there, too, hands still in the male-Moon-obsession inspired pose.  Cigarette and all. 

Here’s my Leaf Man: