It is raining here. On prom night. Ok, I don’t know where that came from. Wasn’t that a really awful song from the Grease soundtrack? I should haul out my LP and check.
It’s not just raining, it’s fucking pouring outside. What happened to a white Christmas, people? This is the reason I live in this state and suffer through some of the shittiest winters ever because by God at least I can count on December 24th being all Frank Capra and chilly white. But no, it’s going to be at least 40 degrees on Christmas Day, so while there’s a chance some of this rain will turn to snow, it will turn back into rain and wash every bit of elfin’ goodness away.
I finished up all of the Holiday Cards on Wednesday night and brought them to the post office yesterday morning. Or rather, I thought I did, because then I found that an entire box of envelopes were addressed and stamped but were still open because they didn’t have insides. Gah! So last night was Round Two of burning more CDs and then I ran out of CD liners, so had to print them off at home. Which is what I should have done in the first place, because the paper cutter I used at work did such a horrible job that I should have simply cut everything out by hand and had straight inserts that actually fit into the CD cases in the first place. I was clearly not meant for production work. I’m so much better at the conceptualization part of creation. This is why I’m not an artist. I fall apart when I have to actually use my hands to do stuff.
Last night, I pulled together a shepherd’s pie out of the roasted leg of lamb. While I was mixing the ingredients, Esteban walked in and asked if I was going to put’ going to put’ um’ pie clothes on it. I explained that normally a shepherd’s pie has just a topping of mashed potatoes, but since I did have one of those prepared pie crusts in the refrigerator, I gave it a bottom crust. The pie was good but Esteban resented my trickery of including vegetables in the mix, infused in such a way that he could not avoid them. He didn’t have seconds, but also said that if I made it again, he would eat it but no vegetables next time. Meh, whatever, it’s not going to kill you, kid. Next time, I’ll give it a full set of pie clothes instead of the potatoes on top, though. PIE CLOTHES! I am dying.
I also realized at Thanksgiving that Esteban and I both love jellied cranberry sauce but we never eat it unless it’s Thanksgiving, so I bought a few cans and opened one last night, dumping it out so that it still was in the shape of a can (which is, of course, the BEST way to serve the stuff). Esteban took a pretty decent chunk of it as dessert and after munching on it for a bit, he announced that he had hollowed it out. I looked and said “Oh, so cute! It’s a little cranberry jelly basket that you could fill with something!” and he replied “Or it’s a bloody artery ripped from someone’s body!”
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the essential difference between the genders. I think edible gift wrapping while he goes straight to viscera.
