Volunteer.
My wife's crazy grandma who is old as dirt, slightly A type (she was the leader of the Women's Federation of the Republican Party in OC up until a few months ago), cranks out on coffee all day, works until three in the morning on hoos-a-fudge and ran for city council in Villa Park at the age of 80 to regulate where people park their motorhomes, and lost, finally realized that she might be human. She caught a bad case of poopy pants, you know, the time you ventured to Mexico for the weekend and had that last margarita on ice... and it caught up with you two days later. Well, she had some infectious disease like that and realized she isn't teflon any longer (I, however, still am and in my head I'm still 13, though my wife kicks my ass and tells me different. I digress).
Crazy Grandma, now known as as CG, has been the lynch pin of the family for years and was quite a breeder in her younger years with 8 kids and an untold number of grands. The Catholic faith was good to her. Up until now she has hosted the family Christmas of 50 or greater, working herself into a frenzy for weeks. She just can't do it anymore and I have been trying to relieve her of it for years as none of her kids will step up, let alone bring a dish to the event. So I was able to to convince her to let me do the event and she can simply enjoy it.
She agreed.
I was shocked.
After I picked myself off of the floor and guzzle the swill they serve as wine at their house, I went into planning mode. What to grow?
We've already put up enough chard to feed the starving. We are making loaf after loaf from scratch for stuffing and into the deep freeze. Cabbage from spring, check. Green beans on the vine now... got it. Sausage... need to find pork butts on sale to do a grind. Salad greens go in the ground when the weather turns. Turkey and ham on sale after Thanksgiving and then smoked on one of three smokers for the day and one turkey in the oven.
What did I get myself into?
All of the nutty aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews in my house at once. Add booze and I'm sure I will be called the devil again by that one crazy aunt... no, not that one. The other one. Hell, they are all nuts.
Take it from me, as I sit here sipping another American Pride Vodka cocktail and wondering why I make such mistakes, go to Denny's instead.
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