After baking up a storm over the last few weeks I happily prepared 16 goodie plates to take to friends on Friday and Saturday evening. The kids were excited to do some carroling and we bundled everyone up tight, loaded the car and took off. While Friday was fun and rather uneventful, Saturday was fraught with peril. Well, maybe just a little peril.
Some months ago our very good friends began an addition on their house. Things never go as quickly as planned and the house is still unfinished. They had been preparing to pour concrete and so things had been even more altered than usual. My first discovery of this had been a few days before when I went to pull into the driveway, in our little old truck, or Silver Bullet as Sariah calls it (we still can’t bring ourselves to bid the poor thing farewell). To my horror I felt the truck drop beneath me as I fell into their driveway, not realizing in the foggy dark that they had dug it out to get ready for the concrete. There was no getting out, so rather sheepishly I went into their house and to their jovial hillarity I explained my predicament, and he was kind enough to tow me out, while she called and told my hubby, having a good laugh.
I suppose I can say that they cursed me, and it all started because of that fateful night, but Sat. after singing at their home I turned to follow my family out. There was quite the step down from their front porch, due to their nonexistant stairs, though there was a small mound of uneven dirt below it. All the framing for the walk way up to the house was done.
Well, I stepped off that porch and with all the grace in the world, twisted my ankle and went crashing to the ground and into the framing. I even scraped the side of my forhead on something, and have some of the most colorful bruises yet, though I don’t know if they surpass my last escapade. I managed to hoble back into their house to wash my hands off and we all marveled that me, with my graceful goofy tendacies managed to last this long, heh.
That night and the next morning I made every cooking faux pas possible (I poured the pecans into the pie pan without the crust, I forgot the eggs for the pumpkin pie filling but thankfully I remembered just before I poured it into the pie crust, I forgot to spray the jello mold before pouring the jello in, I left the bread in the oven that I was trying to dry for stuffing while heating it up for the pies and found brown crispy bread when I went to put the pies in, I heated the turkey roaster without the turkey in it, I started trying to cook the cranberries without the sugar and water though I managed to remember before I scorched any of them, and just after talking to Paul about needing to spray the muffin tins for the rolls I put them in with out spraying), and only Paul managed to save me from myself. And he wondered, “Just how hard did you hit your head?” Clearly my brain was else where.
Christmas Eve became a comedy of errors as we drove around looking at lights and Emily christened Moby Dick…. urp slop bring a mop! Later when Santa came, she almost christened him, but instead it all landed on his bag with the kids presents in it. Just after Dorothy sat on Santa’s lap she took off running, thank goodness she made it to the bathroom in time.
Poor kids, to be sick on Christmas is no fun at all, especially tummy bug sick, and not being able to eat anything. Our special Christmas breakfast was called off, I couldn’t bear to eat yummy food in front of the two sickos while all they got to eat were crackers and gatorade. We decided to try for a New Years breakfast instead.
Even with a scatterbrained, sick, and gimpy crew we managed to have an awesome Christmas. The kids are feeling much better this evening, and are happily coloring and playing with new treasures as we watch the first season of “The Muppet Show” on DVD.