Well, here it is the beginning of November and Christmas Madness has started already. The Hallmark Channel is showing Christmas movies every day, Christmas candy is out next to the last reduced price candy corn at the drug stores, and on Facebook, people are sharing pictures of Santa with a countdown of shopping days. Sometimes their comment is “Mwahaha.”
I had the girls over on Saturday night, and, just to be ironic, I served eggnog and fruitcake. The fruitcake had brandy in it and I had a bottle of rum so everyone could do it themselves with the eggnog. As a nod to Thanksgiving I got pumpkin spice eggnog as well as the regular kind. Fortunately, the kids think eggnog and fruitcake are yucky.
“This is probably the last chance I’ll get to relax,” Nikki said. “I’m doing Thanksgiving, since Helmut’s invited some German friends for ‘a real American feast.’” (She said the last with a German accent.) “I was afraid my mother would get mad, since we usually go to her house, so I had to invite her and my father. Fortunately, my sister has to go to her mother-in-law’s. It’s not that I don’t want them, but still . . . I was thinking I wouldn’t have to get too fancy, since the Germans wouldn’t know the difference, but if my mother is there, she will.”
“Did Helmut ask you first?”
“He said,”(in a German accent) ‘If you wouldn’t mind Liebchen.’ “
“How can you say no to him when he’s so charming and has that cute accent?”
Nikki snorted.
Karen has really gone Methodist, so she is now Assistant Director of the Church Christmas pageant. “They tell me it’ll be fun. Now Tom has even more opportunities to tell me how awful organized religion is.”
‘What do you say to that?”
“I tell him he should be glad that I have some organization in my life.”
“I’m doing Christmas, but Missy offered to do Thanksgiving at her house. I mean my father’s. I don’t know what the kids will say or what I should tell them.”
“They know what’s going on. They could probably tell you.”
“Maybe they think she sleeps in the guest room.”
Nikki rolled her eyes and Karen sighed.
“Well, maybe Cilla does.”
“Just hope she doesn’t ask in the middle of dinner. You don’t want to be spitting cranberry sauce all over the tablecloth. You can’t get the stains out.”
I wondered if I should have a talk with the children about the situation. I really didn’t have the courage to bring it up.
“I still don’t know how I’m going to handle Christmas Eve when they’re coming to watch the kids while we go to the midnight service. My father always slept over.”
“Maybe Missy will be divorced by then and they can get married.”
“Good one,” I said and had another eggnog.
No comments:
Post a Comment