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Skylark of Ember
Dec. 19th, 2018 10:20 pmOh lordy. I'm really tired. Yesterday I thought "Now that the Duchess has said it's okay for me not to come until Thursday, I'll have plenty of time to get everything ready!" But, as usual, I couldn't move quite as fast as I imagined. The Sparrowhawk performed many wonders and laid in a supply of wine and cheese. We finished decorating the tree and put all the ornament boxes and things back in the attic. I did laundry. The Sparrowhawk packed his clothes, vacuumed Some of the Things, and sorted out his camera gear. I cleaned up the kitchen a couple of times. I made the chocolate frosting, the lemon frosting, and the plan sugar glaze for the gingerbread cake and the pound cake. Tomorrow morning before we leave, I'll have to water all my plants and fill the tree container up to the tippy top and hope they don't die before we get back. We will also pack up some emergency rations (which will DEFINITELY include a flask), plus all the things that are piled on the dining room table--a present for Deb, the carol books . . . and I forget what all, but it's there.
So here's the sudden fork thrown into the orderly rotation of spoons: in mid-afternoon, the Philosopher texted me that his Lovely Friend would like to come with him for Christmas, when he arrives in Ann Arbor on the 23rd. She would like to have Christmas Eve dinner at the Duchess's, with everybody else. And then they will come back to our house afterwards for at least a day or two. Well, this is just great, I'm happy, it's no problem to add one more person, and the Philosopher's hotel room already has a king-size bed.
However . . . I had reached that point in my preparations when I'm going "Oh well, ALMOST ready . . . good enough anyway." Like, maybe yet once again I'm NOT going to dust my room or clean up my desk . . . my family knows this never happens . . . once again we didn't clean all the cupboards or reorganize the pantry . . . oh well . . . . But knowing that in addition to my indulgent family, we would be having a Lovely Friend who seems rather exquisite and not at all the kind of person who would have cobwebs . . . I went from incipient lackadaisy to mentally running in circles screaming "Aaaaaack." So I tried really hard to get more things done, but I couldn't. Thank goodness for the Sparrowhawk is all I can say. Also, I have to tell myself, come on--this Lovely Friend knows my son. She must be aware that meticulous housekeeping is just not a thing around here. She'll see the Duchess's place--and the Duchess, let me tell you, is the definition of meticulosity. She has white rugs and white furniture! She'll have to be the front woman for our family reputation.
This is one year when I really wish I was not spending Christmas driving between a hotel and a hospital. But it is what it is. I certainly hope my mother doesn't die. The Lovely Friend was a really good sport about meeting hordes of strange family at Thanksgiving, and now she'll meet a whole new set of us--the aunts, uncles and cousins! But no matter how good a sport you are, it would be awkward to have someone actually die during your first Christmas visit. That's going too far. It would make a good movie plot, though. A dark romcom. I'm KIDDING. Of course I hope that doesn't happen--and I don't think it will. But if I can't joke about it, I'll fall on the floor from exhaustion and start weeping. Tra la la . . . off to try to pack some clothes of some kind. The Witness Protection shirt is definitely coming--though I probably won't wear it to The Procedure.
So here's the sudden fork thrown into the orderly rotation of spoons: in mid-afternoon, the Philosopher texted me that his Lovely Friend would like to come with him for Christmas, when he arrives in Ann Arbor on the 23rd. She would like to have Christmas Eve dinner at the Duchess's, with everybody else. And then they will come back to our house afterwards for at least a day or two. Well, this is just great, I'm happy, it's no problem to add one more person, and the Philosopher's hotel room already has a king-size bed.
However . . . I had reached that point in my preparations when I'm going "Oh well, ALMOST ready . . . good enough anyway." Like, maybe yet once again I'm NOT going to dust my room or clean up my desk . . . my family knows this never happens . . . once again we didn't clean all the cupboards or reorganize the pantry . . . oh well . . . . But knowing that in addition to my indulgent family, we would be having a Lovely Friend who seems rather exquisite and not at all the kind of person who would have cobwebs . . . I went from incipient lackadaisy to mentally running in circles screaming "Aaaaaack." So I tried really hard to get more things done, but I couldn't. Thank goodness for the Sparrowhawk is all I can say. Also, I have to tell myself, come on--this Lovely Friend knows my son. She must be aware that meticulous housekeeping is just not a thing around here. She'll see the Duchess's place--and the Duchess, let me tell you, is the definition of meticulosity. She has white rugs and white furniture! She'll have to be the front woman for our family reputation.
This is one year when I really wish I was not spending Christmas driving between a hotel and a hospital. But it is what it is. I certainly hope my mother doesn't die. The Lovely Friend was a really good sport about meeting hordes of strange family at Thanksgiving, and now she'll meet a whole new set of us--the aunts, uncles and cousins! But no matter how good a sport you are, it would be awkward to have someone actually die during your first Christmas visit. That's going too far. It would make a good movie plot, though. A dark romcom. I'm KIDDING. Of course I hope that doesn't happen--and I don't think it will. But if I can't joke about it, I'll fall on the floor from exhaustion and start weeping. Tra la la . . . off to try to pack some clothes of some kind. The Witness Protection shirt is definitely coming--though I probably won't wear it to The Procedure.
