We survived Christmas. Of course there was a disaster when we were leaving my mom’s place, and packing our catering gear and leftovers that mom didn’t want back in the truck. The cooler made it fine, but my other half tripped in the driveway and dropped the triple crock pot thingy. Two of the ceramic inserts shattered, and scattered stuffing and mixed vegetables all over the driveway, but mostly underneath the truck. Miraculously, all three glass lids survived intact. My other half borrowed a dustpan from my mom to scrape up what he could reach. Mom didn’t even think to ask what he needed it for. I wonder whether she’s discovered some peas, carrots, and stuffing on her driveway yet. Maybe the birds and raccoons got it all, overnight.
Mom was delighted with her slipper booties, Harry & David apples and pears, and a six month’s supply of Dr. Scholl’s corn cushions. We also let her pick out a jar of honey from an assortment we got at the Cape May Honey Farm. Evidently, the Dr. Scholl’s are the only ones that stay put all day, and mom has trouble finding them, because all the pharmacies now carry their own brands, which don’t stay on. I think she was more thrilled to receive those than the fruit or slippers.
This year, I had the food prep more under control than ever before. I did the desserts and cran-apple sauce a day ahead, so all that was left for Christmas day was the bird, and the fixin’s. The only thing last minute was carving the bird, and wrapping it up in foil.
Our neighbors brought over a large plate of Christmas cookies on Christmas Eve day, so that made for a third dessert — eight kinds of cookies, plus some walnut fudge squares. That woman is a fantastic baker. To reciprocate, I gave them a box of gourmet chocolates. My mom, who insists she can’t eat chocolate because of the caffeine content (which is minimal compared to coffee or tea) indulged in one of the little squares of fudge. Have you ever seen an 89 year old woman practically *squee* like a little girl? LOL.
I managed to find some replacement ceramic inserts for the crock pot trio this morning, so no harm done. Yes, it’s easier to cry over spilled milk than put it back in the bottle, so to speak, but it’s even easier to get a new bottle of milk. All is well. On to the next holiday — New Year’s. We always roast a duck for that, and watch the Twilight Zone marathon on SyFy.