Christmas 2007 (So Far)
Matteo arrived Sunday afternoon in time to help Thriller prepare a wonderful dinner of steaks, asparagus and bread served with a nice Tuscan red wine.
It was the first time he had met his new nephew Kyle and (we think) the first time he had ever held a baby.
It was, for sure, the first time all seven of us had been together at one time.
Come Christmas Eve, however, disaster struck. With all of us taking showers, Matteo bringing two loads of laundry, the increased dishwashing load and the drought, we ran out of well water. And, much to my detriment, I declared a ban on showers.
Matteo, being wise beyond his years, went to Charleston to be with Alia for Christmas. Dummy me, stayed here and made alternative plans to have my sister host Christmas dinner and, if necessary, let us use her showers. Worst mistake of my life.
Now, folks, if you want to get the crap beat out of you, just tell three adult women that they cannot take a shower. Using my sister's shower was totally unacceptable for reasons beyond my comprehension. I mean, we have used her shower in the past when we have stayed there overnight. Must be a Lineback genetic defect since Sis and I both though it a splendid solution should the water not return in time.
No, I was told I should have cancelled the whole enchilada because of the possibility of not having the capability of taking a shower before our arrival. Then I really got dumb and asked the following question:
VIII of X.
Eight of ten.
Now, that's what is meant, in my humble opinion, when it is said life is cheap.
I sure hope none of them ever have to go to Sweden or northern Europe in wintertime where they may go a week, or more, without a bath!
Risking the loss of heating elements and well pump, I scratched up enough water for two showers late last night. Two of the womenfolk, however, informed me that the shower had to be taken the very day of the visit to count. So I shut down the hot water heater and well pump and prayed for underground rain overnight.
This morning, as I arose early to put the Christmas turkey in the pit, I flipped on the well pump, the tanks filled with water and the pump pressure switch switched off. The dishwasher is washing dishes as I write. I, licking the wounds upon learning how little I'm apparently worth these days, am badly beaten and bruised but not yet completely dead.
Maybe. You can never be absolutely sure about those things.
Oh, yes, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that, somewhere in there among the Disaster of All Disasters, Ed prepared us some of the best grilled pork tenderloins I've ever had and we enjoyed them with mixed greens and smashed potatoes prepared by Thriller, all served on paper plates supplied by Talbeau years ago and eaten by the unbathed with the aid of plastic flatware.
It was the first time he had met his new nephew Kyle and (we think) the first time he had ever held a baby.
It was, for sure, the first time all seven of us had been together at one time.Come Christmas Eve, however, disaster struck. With all of us taking showers, Matteo bringing two loads of laundry, the increased dishwashing load and the drought, we ran out of well water. And, much to my detriment, I declared a ban on showers.
Matteo, being wise beyond his years, went to Charleston to be with Alia for Christmas. Dummy me, stayed here and made alternative plans to have my sister host Christmas dinner and, if necessary, let us use her showers. Worst mistake of my life.
Now, folks, if you want to get the crap beat out of you, just tell three adult women that they cannot take a shower. Using my sister's shower was totally unacceptable for reasons beyond my comprehension. I mean, we have used her shower in the past when we have stayed there overnight. Must be a Lineback genetic defect since Sis and I both though it a splendid solution should the water not return in time.
No, I was told I should have cancelled the whole enchilada because of the possibility of not having the capability of taking a shower before our arrival. Then I really got dumb and asked the following question:
On a scale of 1 to 10 (with 10 representing my death), just how bad might be visiting my sister after going unbathed for a day?The answer was 8 of 10.
VIII of X.
Eight of ten.
Now, that's what is meant, in my humble opinion, when it is said life is cheap.
I sure hope none of them ever have to go to Sweden or northern Europe in wintertime where they may go a week, or more, without a bath!
Risking the loss of heating elements and well pump, I scratched up enough water for two showers late last night. Two of the womenfolk, however, informed me that the shower had to be taken the very day of the visit to count. So I shut down the hot water heater and well pump and prayed for underground rain overnight.
This morning, as I arose early to put the Christmas turkey in the pit, I flipped on the well pump, the tanks filled with water and the pump pressure switch switched off. The dishwasher is washing dishes as I write. I, licking the wounds upon learning how little I'm apparently worth these days, am badly beaten and bruised but not yet completely dead.
Maybe. You can never be absolutely sure about those things.
Oh, yes, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that, somewhere in there among the Disaster of All Disasters, Ed prepared us some of the best grilled pork tenderloins I've ever had and we enjoyed them with mixed greens and smashed potatoes prepared by Thriller, all served on paper plates supplied by Talbeau years ago and eaten by the unbathed with the aid of plastic flatware.
Comments
Post a Comment