So holiday insanity begins now. Actually, last night, wherein my husband was up until 1am cutting and sealing meat after a Costco trip (our kitchen looking like a butcher shop), prepping lamb chops and making a mushroom soup. I fell asleep to the whir of the Braun handmixer and the Seal-A-Meal. We are doing dinner tonight (for 6) dinner tomorrow (for 10) and then dinner again on the 27th (for 20) after the girl's baptism. We have Wednesday off. My mother-in-law will be cooking so I am expecting some sort of hot dish but after all the cooking and washing of fine china and crystal by hand, I would eat mac and cheese off of paper plates I will care so little.
We kicked off Christmas last night by picking up my Aunt Marian at the international arrivals area of Dulles with Lulu. It was a romantic Love Actually moment. We went back to my mother's house, opened a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, ordered Thai and sang songs -- but not until after my husband spent 15 minutes getting my mother's stereo system working, "Hey! My buddy Ed had this same turntable in high school!" dating the Bang and Olufsen very accurately to 1986.
We belted The Pogues "Fairytale of New York" as if no one were listening. I looked my Aunt Marian in the eye and sang "You're an old slut on junk" with love and conviction. In 2003 I went to Ireland and stayed with Marian for the week. We went to Dublin for a night and walked the city streets strung with Christmas decorations and lights. We ate at a Thai restaurant and wandered over to Oliver St. John Gogarty's pub. The place was packed but through charm, wit and feminine wiles we talked our way into spot up in a bay window*. We sat there all night, half in and half out of the pub, singing with hundreds of other drunks. When "Fairytale of New York" was played the place went completely nuts. Everyone had their arms draped on the shoulders of the people next to them, eyes closed...swaying and singing in one very big, collective, off-tune voice. For some people it's White Christmas, Little Drummer Boy or Joy to the World. To me, nothing says happiness and holidays like "It's Christmas Eve babe. In the drunk tank..."
Happy Christmas you arses!!!
*I took this from where we sat inside, looking out onto the street below.
