MonkeyPants

Christmas Club.

I was a little concerned when Sandii broke her arm a couple of weeks ago. She’s my co-cook at Jim’s and I worried about not having her expertise. I still needed her to look at the cranberry sauce and make sure I was doing it right, but with everybody helping out, we all managed to produce an enormous feast. With everybody doing all the jobs instead of our usual ones, it reminded me of the Breakfast Club monologue:

“You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a gravy maker. And a timekeeper. And a potato masher. And a sprout tester. And a Yorkshire pudding maker.

Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, Christmas Club.”

It was awesome. I felt slightly guilty having so much fun with E in exile in Regina. When I talked to him on the phone, it sounded like he was channeling Morgan Freeman in this eerie, calm voice. Turns out his parents were hovering. Right. There. Because they don’t have a cordless phone and there was no way to get away.

But he’s home and on the couch and we’re watching space shows. We’re going to go eat leftovers a little later.

Life is just fine.