All posts by Eve Ogden Schaub

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About Eve Ogden Schaub

Serial memoirist Eve O. Schaub lives with her family in Vermont and enjoys performing experiments on them so she can write about it. Author of Year of No Sugar (2014) and Year of No Clutter (2017) and most recently Year of No GARBAGE (2023). Find her on Twitter @Eveschaub IG or eveschaub.com.

The Holiday Hangover

One in a Thousand, , ,

E.O. Schaub

I just love the holidays. It’s just that they’re killing me.

I mean, sure they’ve been over for most of YOU, you normal people, for some time now. Lucky you. However, in my case, we’re still celebrating. And celebrating. Oh yes. You gotta love all this celebrating. And celebrating. And eating. And present-giving. And eating. And more presents. And eating. Did I mention the eating? If I gain any more festive holiday weight I have plans to enter myself as a float in a Mardi Gras parade.

Not to mention that I am so behind on bills and housework that, currently, my house looks like a tornado and a hurricane met and fell in love in my living room. While doing their laundry. In fact, I’m not so worried about the bills being so late, because when the bill-collectors come they’ll never be able to find me in here. You think I’m kidding? At least three separate friends have commented recently, in so many words, how nice it is that my house is a mess, so they don’t feel quite so bad about what a mess their houses are, too. (I can see the commercial now: “Holidays taken over your life? Feel like you will absolutely, positively, NEVER catch up? Come on over to Eve’s house and we guarantee: you’ll feel so much better!”) Glad to help! Continue reading The Holiday Hangover →

The Real Christmas Letter

One in a Thousand, , ,

E.O. Schaub

Season’s Greetings family and friends! It’s hard to believe another year has already passed and I find myself sitting down to write yet another missive on the subject of all the Pfefernuse family has been up to in 2008.

As you can see from the enclosed photo, Sarabeth has grown into a fine young woman and continues to assert her independence as a Goth Hermaphrodite. Although she prefers the company of alley vermin to her own family, and has taken to sleeping in the attic under a tarp, it is with great pride that we report she has been nominated by the senior class for Most Piercings. Her post-graduation plans include continuing her life education as a part-time hostess for Pizza Hut, and not doing drugs very much at all.

Kevin, meanwhile, is growing by leaps and bounds, and in recent months has fully evolved into a state of adolescent awkwardness that is unprecedented in the history of eighth grade. His interests of late have included dissecting frogs (he’ll be all ready for biology next year!), ignoring his parents, and not having friends.

Although I know many of you found it difficult to understand why I felt compelled to return to my studies late last year at the ripe old age of 39, I am pleased to report that, with the enthusiastic support of my family, and after much toil and late night TV dinners, I am on track to receive my associates degree in underwater massage in late 2010.

Matthew is, as ever, disappointed with life and a drain on us all. He spends much of his time in the garage working crossword puzzles and mumbling incoherently.

Wishing you all the very best for a truly joyous and blessed New Year- The Pfefernuses

PS: The dog is dead.

—–

A Reindeer in Headlights

One in a Thousand, ,

E.O. Schaub

At holiday time, there’s really nothing like a story of someone else’s misfortune to completely stop you in your tracks- like a reindeer in headlights. (Whoa! Ho Ho!) It very effectively interrupts all the self-focused thoughts encouraged by the obligations and diversions of the season.

Here’s how it happened to me: it so happens that we’re doing some work on our house, and today, a fellow asked if he could take some of the discarded plywood from the dumpster. Before I could even say oh-my-God-yes-I-mean-we-actually-have-to-pay-to-take-this-stuff-away-so-it-can-sit-and-rot-in-a-landfill-please-please-please-take-it-and-do-something-karmically-better-than-that, he began to explain that it was for a friend, some folks who live in a trailer and have spots in the floor so soft it’s actually dangerous to walk on them, for fear of falling right through.

(Pause.)

Also, he mentioned, he knows another fellow who’s homeless, and currently is residing in an old school bus.

(Pause)

Okay, whoa.

Did I mention that it is 17 degrees outside as I write this? That even the snowmen are wincing when the wind blows today? What kind of insulating factor do you think a school bus provides, anyway? It’s a cliché, perhaps, but it’s still true: what on earth to get Great Grouchy Aunt Matilda, or whether a pad of decorative Post-its counts as a nice stocking stuffer, suddenly didn’t seem to matter as much as it did a few minutes ago. Continue reading A Reindeer in Headlights →