January 12, 2004

• The holidays were literally a mess, but fun.    It started with Chelle's parents deciding to jet to Cancun at the last minute, taking most her brothers and sisters with them.     Chelle didn't want to go, already having hot plans here, so we had the whole house to ourselves--'cept for Felicia popping in and out when you least expected her.    The maid had the season off.   All we did was party, sleep, watch DVD's on their new giant flat-screen TV, munch out, and party, from Xmas Eve through New Years Day.    We ate on Chinette paper plates, subsisting on Slimfast, diet Pepsi, and the loads of frozen entrees in the pantry, in addition to the huge assortment of mail-order gourmet goodies under the tree.    There were several gifts from Fruit-of-The-Month Club, Omaha Steaks, Popcornopolis, Just Desserts, Swiss Colony, Champagne to Go, Bloomies, you name it.   Still, the kitchen and game room looked like a cyclone hit it.   I finally got to sample that pretty Shaker lemon curd tart that always makes my mouth water; and I think I ate all the Ketcham's filet mignons, one by one, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.   (Me:  "Are you sure it's okay?  We're eating all your folks' gifts."   Chelle:   "Help yourself; Mom throws half that junk out, anyway.")   They were almost the only food that lived up to their reputation, much of the rest being obviously store-bought, cheap, slightly stale and, other than their festive appearance, ever disappointing. 

  
  

  (Speaking of flesh-eating, Greg, Daddy, and I had the most inane conversation on vegetarianism Thanksgiving.   I remarked how Asian culture considers it totally barbaric to serve whole cuts of meat that still look like legs and other body parts, while we think nothing of it.    Yet we get down on them for being more open-minded in their food choices, consuming some creatures we keep as pets.

  
  

  "Look at that turkey!   It's about to fly off the table to a Chinese person."

  
  

  "At least we can tell what we're eating," Greg huffed, clearing his throat with more wine.

  
  

  "It's really gross if you really think about it, though.   The way we kill and consume other things.    All of us.   We think it's delicious if they show ads for chicken parts.    'Ummm!   Body parts!  Get your body parts here!'  But if they showed us a human leg roasting on a spit, we'd be mortified!"

  
  

  "But there are some human body parts you don't find objectionable," my brother parried.

  
  

  Mom broke in.    "I think we're treading on dangerous ground here."

  
  

  "Me, too,"  said Daddy.    "You could run me outta business with talk like this.   My own daughter!"

  
  

  "Just trying to make intelligent conversation for a change, instead of the usual turkey bashing, since we live in a large Asian community."

  
  

  Of course Coke, who thought she'd put in an appearance now that the rest of us were there, had to rush to his defense.    "Well, it's called poor, baby, something I'm never gonna be, and there's nothing open-minded about it.   And I don't know about you, but  I'm starving." She sighed dramatically.   "Why don't we just stop arguing and be thankful for this wonderful food Mom worked so hard to prepare?"

  
  

  "Fine!")

  
  

  Christmas was a smashing buffet party at the Olson's.   After exchanging gifts down in my boyfriend's freezing basement room at 10:00 pm, we snuck  back to Chelle's to take a bubble bath in the master bedroom whirlpool and share some quality time by candle light under the aged-oak rafters.    I can still feel the firm warmth of his silken wand probing my inner depths.    The privacy and luxurious homey surroundings--plus a few puffs of prime sans simian--were just what I needed to really relax and let go.   It was heavenly.   

  
  

  Too bad my roommie didn't share my joyous spirit.  "Enjoy it while it lasts!"  I was surprised to hear her say, reminding me of Brett's leaving.    For some reason--having regrets about opting out of Mexico, her date's being a big letdown, PMS, my short bout of depression's being contagious, or something--she was in a pensive mood from the 27th onwards and unable to crack a smile, not even when we held an impromptu early New Years party at the house for just ourselves with Bruce and a few other of her old stand-bys.   (There was half a case of champagne to kill, so what the hell.)    Felicia was surprisingly good company, though.    It was she who provided the excellent dope.   She also took us to Elva's to see their new apartment.    Our friend seemed content and fairly adjusted to married life.    I don't know why I was amazed to find her in a sleek professional woolen suit with not a sign of a bulging tummy yet; I must be less liberal than I thought.

  
  

  Brett got me a white gold topaz tennis bracelet; I gave him my grandfather's gold nugget wrist chain.   My stocking included some pink lace leggings, some flavored gourmet dipping oils, and a nifty battery-operated toothbrush for lord-knows-what.   From my folks, the customary cash and clothes.   I hope Dad liked his smokeless ashtray; it was the best I could find.

  
  

  (Dig these hues!   I discovered them by accident trying to color-fill a small area with black in Windows Paint.)

  • 12:10 am
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