Recommended wine for today’s entry: Hmmm…if you are anything like me, you’ve had plenty of wine lately and a VERY light beverage is in order. Let’s go with a glass of Fontina Candida tonight, the Frascati we first discovered in Rome about 25 years ago. It’s inexpensive and refreshing … a good post-Christmas combination. And just ONE glass for me…
EEKS. I don’t know about y’all, but in the past few days I have ingested too much wine and WAY too much cholesterol. Now my brain is sluggish and my stomach sloshes like a half-empty keg when I walk too fast.
We had a super fun Christmas, entertaining the masses at our house for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It was the stress of being a good hostess and not letting my friends and family feel awkward drinking alone that led to my overindulgence. And my menus consisted of red meat in about four forms (which, being a vegetarian, I didn’t eat) and cheese in about twenty-two forms (which, being a vegetarian, I practically inhaled) and lots and lots of cream sauces.
Luckily, we kept desserts light — Oreo cheesecake and a four-layer cake that involves copious amounts of sour cream, coconut and an entire container of nutrient-laden Cool Whip.
Last night I decided to amend my evil ways and I vowed not to eat ANYTHING unhealthy. So I skipped dinner and just drank wine. A little note: don’t try this. My mother used to always make me eat a piece of Bunny bread before I went out with friends during my college years — to absorb some alcohol. Go figure, mummy was right.
I couldn’t sleep very well last night because everytime I rolled over it sounded like the ocean was in bed with me. Very disconcerting.
But I had a really good time at Napa River, where a group of my high school buddies gathered to catch up and laugh about what doofuses we used to be. Next year, we will get together and laugh about what doofuses we were last night. My friend Vicki was already laughing about her behavior, announcing with some regularity that she was “a little tipsy.” She also invited several people she doesn’t know to her 50th birthday party and I’m pretty sure they’re gonna show up.
All in all, it was a fun way to wrap up Christmas weekend — capping a marathon of fun with family, new-ish friends and old friends. The plan is to dry out before New Year’s festivities begin. I’m on liver break.
The holidays are a wonderful time to reminisce. I’ll never forget Christmas Eves at my grandmother’s house. My grandfather, who spoke about six words a day, would sit in his armchair staring at the TV while us grandkids would buzz around in all our adorable excitement, babbling and sugar-buzzed and annoying as hell.
After about an hour, he’d get up and make his signature daquiris that tasted like rum and a squeeze of lime. I know what they taste like because he always slipped us one, even though we were all like 10. He hardly drank anything, but rather his intent was to shut us up … or shut us down. If he was smart, he crushed up some Benadryl and added it to the blender.
Mimi had a metal tree, with silver Reynolds Wrap branches, and a spotlight that had a moving filter of red, green, gold and blue, so that the tree would be red for five minutes, then green, then … well, you get it. It was weird, but I’m not kidding, to a 10-year-old brain on a splash of rum, it could be quite captivating.
There was one year that my grandmother had a bunch of her Shell Club buddies over for Christmas Eve, too. They were almost all ancient and they would stand around and discuss the latest find by the leper colony that was on its way (hopefully after careful sterilization) in the mail. They couldn’t even call the shells cute and recognizable names like “cat’s paw” and “tulip shell”; instead they spoke in tongues that I later learned were the freaking Latin names and genuses and what-not.
Anyway, they were all old except for one goober who actually hung out with these elderly nerds for fun. He was about 12 that Christmas Eve and I am sure that he was as horrified as I was when I walked into the powder room while he was peeing.
Then, that same year, I lost my contact lens (the hard petrie dish kind that cost like $300) in the car on the way home. While my parents just wanted to assemble the Santa gifts and get to bed, I had the whole group canvassing the backseat of the Ford LTD because I wouldn’t be able to see my presents — or the tree — or the house — until we found it.
At 2 a.m. or so, I went upstairs, defeated and exhausted and when I took my ever-so-attractive jumpsuit off, out popped the missing lens. It had been tucked into my cowl neck, along with a pretty good amount of green bean casserole.
And now I wonder what my children’s memories of family Christmases will be. Fortunately, at 30+ years older than my little dumplings, I am banking on either being absent or at least stone deaf by the time they begin their reflective phases…