Another Christmas With Nana

I have mentioned this before, but just in case you have forgotten -- my Grandmother is nuts. Certifuckingfiable (note creative use of infixable word, here).

Christmas is a chore. We'll just have "snacks," says Nana. She has always complained that we make "big" dinners on holidays. Okay, this is the United States of America, right? This is the country that believes in overindulgence on every holiday -- Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Easter, Valentines Day, the Fourth of July -- and the list can go on and on, I'm sure. Whatever the occasion, Americans want to overeat. I'm pretty sure that what my family, alone, eats on any given holiday could feed all of the inhabitants of a third world country for a month.

Nana complained that she doesn't want to "cook" all day on a holiday. We should just sit at the table and eat some snacks and we can "laugh, and laugh, and play cards, and munch." This has never, never happened in my family! We laugh, alright. We laugh at my grandmother. She hasn't "cooked" for any holiday in something like 20 years -- and I am not exaggerating. In fact, I'm not sure she cooks ever -- even for herself. She goes to the riverboat and eats in the VIP room for free or in the restaurants for free because she blows a major wad of cash down there every month.

I start, then, with the "snacks" that were supposed to make it so much "easier" for us this holiday. Keep in mind, that Christmas Eve dinner in my family traditionally consists of sliced roast beef, augratin potatoes, black cherry jello and rolls. This meal usually takes my mother an I, together, about 1 hour to prepare. Cat decided that she would orchestrate the "We'll just have some snacks" holiday plans. Each of the girls (Mom, me, Janelle, and Cat) were responsible for bringing four appetizers, one dessert and a "fancy" drink. Joe was responsible for chocolates and eggnog. Doug was providing a lot of liquor, a variety of crackers, paper plates, napkins, the house, and Michael -- well, Michael wasn't responsible for jack squat because Michael couldn't find his ass with two hands -- I'll get back to this later.

I will provide you with a list of the food that we served for 11 people (the immediate family -- God this family is so fucking big!):

Mom:

Large, chilled, peel-and-eat shrimp (with cocktail sauce)
Lil' Smokies (in the traditional sauce)
Cheese Ball
Asparagus Toast Points
Pumpkin Cake
Southern Comfort Slushies

Me:

Olive Garden's Spinach and Artichoke Dip (with homemade "toasties")
Smoked Salmon spread
"To Die For" Chees spread
Brocolli-Cheese Soup
Cracker Barrel's Double Chocolate Fudge Coca Cola cake
Martini & Rossi Asti Spumonti (not my choice -- I would have rather a nice bottle of wine)

Cat:

Cheese & Salsa Dip (with homemade tortilla chips)
Filo wrapped spinach puffs (she bought them)
Caramel Apple Pie (she bought this, too)
Eclairs (bought, again)

Janelle:

Clam spread (Steve made it)
Deviled eggs (Steve made this, too)
Smoked oysters (no one likes these at all -- she, of course, bought them and then made Steve open the can).
Ice Cream (bought -- though I never saw it).

Now, the way I figure it, Steve spent about 1 hour in the kitchen. Cat and Shane microwaved the cheese/salsa thing and Shane spent about 1 hour making the tortilla chips). Janelle, I think, filed her nails.

Joe -- well, Joe had some issues puttin his share of Christmas together this year -- he was busy. Would I, since I was going to Sam's in Batavia, anyway, go to Crate and Barrel up there to pick up a 6 quart Red Dutch oven for $99.00 for Shane (he pulled Shane in the gift exchange this year). Um, okay. Joe left me $140.00 and called later to ask me if I could get some egg nog and chocolate for "him" to bring to Christmas. Like I had a fargin' choice?

On Thursday, Mom and Dad and I went to Sam's. 2 hours and $300.00 later, we still didn't have the IPod boom boxes that Mom so desperately wanted for Mike and Cat. Let us keep in mind, now, that Mike's first IPod was stolen in the driveway about 3 years ago. Some time in the last 6 months, Mike's second IPod was stolen out of his apartment during one of his "let's make enough money to pay rent" parties. Michael doesn't have an IPod! Mom knows this, but Michael doesn't know that she knows. But I digress. The point is that the Batavia Sam's doesn't have 2 of the IPod boom boxes. So we had to drive to FUCKING ROLLING MEADOWS THE FUCKING BACK ASSED LONG WAY to buy these two things.

On the way, I ran into Crate and Barrel and bought the last red dutch oven on the shelf. It was marked at $59.00 on sale from its original $99.00 price.

While we were in Sam's in FUCKING ROLLING MEADOWS, I picked up the chocolates I had forgotten to buy at the last Sam's in FUCKING BATAVIA. I, for the record, had finished all of my Christmas shopping last Monday.

On the way home from FUCKING ROLLING MEADOWS, my mother looks at the dutch oven -- Goddammit, Kristen! This is a 3 quart -- we wanted the 6 quart! I wouldn't really know the difference even if they had stocked both -- but they didn't. We spent the long drive home from FUCKING ROLLING MEADOWS calling Carson's, Marshall Fields, JC Penny, Bloomingdales, etc. No one had a 6 quart Dutch Oven for anything less than $190.00. Mom ordered from the catalog when we got home -- Shane got a card with a picture taped inside of it. The dutch oven should arrive here tomorrow or Thursday.

Again, I digress. Friday arrived -- Mom and I started to cook, and cook, and cook, and cook. Between Friday and Saturday, Mom and I each spent something like 6 to 8 hours cooking. That's conservatively 12 "man" hours of cooking. This does not include 3 trips with my car full of various necessary pieces for storing, cooking, serving, etc. these "snacks." By about hour 3, my mother and I were completely bonkers and kept repeating: "We'll just have some snacks!" I believe my mother and I both wished horrible things would happen to my grandmother MULTIPLE times. At one point, I wanted to lay down and just wait for the wolves to come.

Oh God. It just dawned on me that I am really only through Saturday morning. I haven't even gotten to my grandmother's usual antics. I'll skip through the rest of the preparation and serving of the "snacks." I'll leave us with this -- It would have taken us about 1 hour to make our usual dinner and another 10 minutes to put it out for the hungry hoardes.

Okay, the gifting. We go around in a circle, each of us opening one gift, ooohing and aaahing appropriately, and throwing away the wrapping paper. NEXT! We have been doing it like this for many, many years. My mother sometimes gives the same type of gift to two people. This year, as I've explained in some detail before, it was the IPod Boom Box to Cat and Mike. They, then, must open these simultaneously so as not to spoil it for one or the other. Off came the wrapping and Cat squeeled: Yeah! Michael looked forlorn and then explained to my mother, "Oh, Mom! This is so sad. I'm sorry. My type of IPod won't work with this!" Cat became immediately worried. Michael explained that her "newer" model would work but that his was a special [INSERT A BUNCH OF UNINTELLIGIBLE TECHNOBABBLE HERE]. Michael comes by his acting ability quite naturally -- my mother played it so cool -- "Oh, Michael. Well, I'll just have to get you something else. I'm sorry." "It's okay, Mom." I just about wet myself. I had to leave the room.

By the time I came back, all the gifts were opened and it was time for, drum roll, please ... the Nana gift presentation. My grandmother hasn't spent one slim dime on gifts for years, now. She needs that money for the riverboat! So instead, much like the crazy aunt in Christmas Vacation, my grandmother just collects things from around her house. She never wraps anything because it would be such a waste of all that lovely paper she has kept for so long. That paper could be worth something! It's antique! (It's okay, you can look appalled; you can feel sorry for me at any time; you can send money, cash--large bills).

In a wicker basket that goes everywhere my grandmother goes, she has packed up all the gifts for this year. Just to refresh your memory, past gifts have included a 30 year old baby head sucker, a bag of hair, and a beautifully hand-carved table for Janelle and Steve for which they had to write a check to my grandmother for the "balance" of what she would have spent normally for Christmas -- by my count, they had to pay for the entire cost of the table.

This year's booty included a "Bandit" mini slot machine in which Doug's friends are to insert quarters that will never be returned even if they hit the jackpot. She also passed around a bag of plastic key chains with the "Price is Right" promotional logo from the riverboat. My mother took this bag that my grandmother handed to her and hid it in the cushions of the couch until she was able to surreptitiously hand it to me to throw away in the garbage at my feet. A few minutes later into the ordeal, my grandmother had misplaced one of her precious, "antique," "very valuable," bottles -- a cobalt blue one for Janelle (who hates them, but keeps getting more every year). My grandmother panicked and began to dig in the garbage where she found -- the keychains. They went around again after my mother yelled at me for not passing them. Thanks, Mom! When the bag got to Steve, he very casually placed them in the box that was going back to Nana's house.

Aside from "vintage" (translate: old and dirty) slips (yes, Jeff, that's like underwear) that Cat got, I don't really remember much else. I guess Janelle took all of her stuff (suffice it to say it was a bunch of garbage) and "decorated" Doug's very expensive and chic Master bathroom with it. I got out of it all with only an original and never used copy of Trivial Pursuit. BONUS!

My grandmother tried to get Doug to kneel down on the floor to get one of his presents. He complained on his way down about his "old" knees. My grandmother admonished him for these complaints and told us all that she could get up without even using her hands. She made it up alright -- and almost fell over in the process -- Doug and his old knees had to jump up to catch her.

Shortly thereafter, Nana was munching on a bowl of food that was sitting on the counter by the coffee pot -- the same bowl that I repeatedly moved onto the floor for Amber (Doug's new dog). I kept telling people that someone was going to eat it and not to put it next to the nuts! Janelle quickly reassured my grandmother (after Doug stopped her from continuing to eat the dog food) that the food was "human grade" and wouldn't hurt her. Um, okay?

Everyone filed back into the living room after this for a champagne toast to Michael's graduation from college last week. Mom passed him his graduation present -- IPod #3. He was properly sheepish, but all is well that ends well. Mom told him he couldn't ever get away with lying to her and that he should just quit trying.

As my Christmas present from Nana, I have to spend the day on Friday with my grandmother getting crappy-assed, miniscule and luke warm crab legs at the mother-fucking riverboat. That's my Christmas present from my grandmother -- dinner at the buffet and sitting in the VIP room where I can smoke and read my book while Nana gambles away more of my inheritance. She is never going to die, anyway, so I am not holding my breath for my little, tiny, piece of that pie.

Oh, here is a brief list of everything else I got -- not that it matters, but, for posterity: a really pretty lavendar blouse with those nice cuffs, a black turtleneck sweater, slippers, my new coat, a bag of macadamia nuts -- a really big bag, a $50.00 gift card to Victoria Secret, the next two novels in the Thursday Next series (by Jasper Fforde), a dog training book, that book about "the world's worst dog," and some other stuff I can't remember.

Sunday morning, my father went out to get the paper and found in the door a gift for me beautifully sealed with duct tape -- nice touch, Jay. It impressed my father! Thanks for the cross! It is beautiful.

Merry Christmas -- Holy Shit!

Finally! A Break!

I finished my last paper and turned it in on Friday. Hey -- it was only 2 weeks late!

I did get my grades from my other classes, though. I got an A in Short Story -- considering my entire grade was based on my final paper, Dr. Giles must have liked it (or me) an awful lot. I was rather pleased with it, actually. I didn't really think, though, that it was "A" material.

To be fair, I always feel that way about my papers and I am pleasantly surprised when I get a higher grade than I anticipated. See, I recycled that paper. The original was one I wrote for Dr. Hipp oh so many years ago. Dr. Hipp gave me a B on that damned thing. I cried about it for most of the Christmas break that year (give or take 6 weeks long). After I went back and talked to Dr. Hipp about the paper and my final grade -- he changed my grade to an A.

I always felt like I bullied him into changing my grade. I still feel that way, sometimes, but some minor adjustments (and an addition of some 10 pages) got me an A on it in a grad class. Yes, I cleaned up a lot of the writing. Yes, I activated a lot of inactive verbs. Yes, I added in another writer (I was looking at local color writers). But, it was still, basically, the same argument and premise.

I got a B in Textual Studies. That sucked, but I got what I earned. I expected it and wasn't surprised.

I really don't know what I will get in Bloomsbury. I feel like I nailed my paper; however, my instructor never feels the same way about my papers as I do. She likes what I don't like and vice versa. My paper was on To The Lighthouse -- anti-imperialism and feminism. I suggested that Virginia Woolf designed the text as a dual-purpose allegorical representation contesting oppression in two of its forms that (to her, anway) were omnipresent in British society. In plain English -- she double-dipped.

Interesting note, today I judged another fargin' speech meet. This time, I got to judge the "impromptu" round. The students get a topic and as much time as they need to prepare (most of them take only 2 or 3 minutes). They then present an original speech (5-8 minutes long) on that topic. The topic for the round I judged was "gift."

So one of the girls talked about it being better to give than to receive. She cited To The Lighthouse. Big mistake, poor girl. I know the text, unfortunately, (for both me and this poor girl) inside and out. There is no scene even remotely similar to the one she referenced in support of her argument. I felt rather bad for her, actually.

Well, we're waiting for delivery of Giordano's. Mom and Dad have never tried it. I'm a pretty huge fan, actually. The last time I had it, come to think of it, was before the break up of Five Year Jacket. In fact, it was the evening of the last show that Kevin played with that band. Tonya and I went to that show. We were really early so we stopped at the Giordano's in Plainfield. Now, we have one here in Oswego. Of course, we still don't have a Borders ...

I started reading Mary Barton, today. Or is it Elizabeth Gaskell. Fuck. One of them is the name of the text and the other is the name of the author. Victorian Prose, again. I have it from a moderately reliable source that it will appear on the comp exams. Okay, even better yet. That same source believes that Atlas Shrugged will be on the exams. I actually know that text. Again, unfortunately.

That was dani linn's fault. I was commuting to Chicago and read The Fountainhead for several weeks. I hated it.

I have to go. The shit has hit the fan. Mom came downstairs and the horribleness has begun.

I Should Be Writing My Last Paper

I'd like to talk about the medical fields of oncology, neurology, and, while I'm at it, EENT (Ear, Eye Nose & Throat). What would happen if we cured cancer? The U.S. economy would crumble and descend into mass panic. Why? Because every oncologist in the country, every nurse dedicated to the care of cancer patients, every hospital orderly working in a cancer ward -- would be out a job.

And MS? Every neurologist and neurology nurse -- and then lets talk about the drug stores -- they would no longer need to carry walkers, canes, etc. Of course, there's always another disease.

Let's talk diabetes. How much would the economy suffer if we didn't need insulin? Or podiatrists? Or Opthamologists? Or blood monitors? Special shoes? Needles to inject insulin? What about all the oral medications?

And even the common cold. No more Theraflu, ColdEase, Robitussin, Nyquil (except for alcoholics). A reduction in the need for Kleenex (no matter the brand name). Vicks Vapo Rub? Cough drops? At this point, would we even need a drug store?

And people wonder why we haven't found a cure. We pour millions -- billions, I'm sure -- into the economy to "research" and "treat" the symptoms of these diseases. Of all of these, the only real cause seems to be cigarettes???? Can I just say -- bullshit! Yeah. Cigarettes suck. I hate the fact that I still smoke. But fuck -- what sucks even more is that there are so many sick people and there are so many people who would "suffer" if we found a cure for the sick people.

I hate this shit. Now I know why Jeff is such a cynic. I am starting to do more than simply sympathize with him. Now I see a plethora of conspiracy -- they are all conspiring, (I'm really not sure who "all" is, but work with me here, I'm on a major stress roll here) to make sure that America -- that the world -- stays sick.

In the words of Eric Cartman, "You bastards!"