Saturday, December 24, 2011

stayin' alive (m)

I wake up on December 24th, Christmas Eve morning, and the house is lit like a tree.  Harrison decides not to wait until evening to put me in the mood for Christmas.  I've been a bitch on wheels this past week, obsessing over the small stuff (UPS, etc).  I decide to take a cue from my son and embrace the holiday spirit.

At 8 a.m., I head to the new, deluxe Whole Foods market to pick up the dessert I ordered and get the veggies for the salad.  There, in the cheese aisle, I run into my former VP of Finance and we give each other a big hug.  He looks great and says I do, too.  This, definitely makes me feel happy.

At check-out, I study the items being placed on the belt by the woman behind me in line.  Antipasto platter, mozzarella, tortellini, focaccia bread.  She is blonde and stylish and I blurt out, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were Italian."  She is.  From Milan.  The real deal.  Five minutes later, she knows where my family is from (in Italy) and I know a little bit about her. She wishes me a Buon Natale e Felice Anno Nuovo and gives me a hug. 

Now I'm really in the mood for Christmas.  I'm even singing carols with the radio.

Get into the house and start to cook.  Bourbon meatballs, a sauce, mashed potatoes.  I'm feeling pretty good that I'm this well-prepared.  The table was set last night and is covered with a paper tablecloth to keep dust off.

My friend Susan comes over to pick up the items I got for her while shopping.  She works so it was easier for me to get her stuff at Costco and Whole Foods.  While here, Susan rearranges my dishware and glasses in the glass door cabinets to make them more visually appealing.    Could this day get any better?

I help Susan bring her stuff to the car.  There, on my back porch, is yet another misdelivered package from UPS.  Susan looks down and says, "I see what you mean about the UPS guy."

I go back in the house and Sam comes downstairs with three friends who slept over last night.  They are hungry.  I point to where everything is and tell them to help themselves.  Bagels, lox, strawberries, juice, coffee, cereal, yougurt.  The kitchen is getting cluttered again. My husband is AWOL and my godmother calls on the phone to wish me a Merry Christmas.  I think she's losing it a bit as yesterday she sent me a card that I sent her back in 1998 and signed her name under mine.  She kept me on the phone so long, my bourbon balls overcooked.

I look up at the clock.  2 p.m. and my day is starting to unravel.

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