My Christmas Roller Coaster

I felt like I was on a roller coaster and I hadn’t even left the house in more days than an elf could count on her jingle bells. I don’t know exactly how many that is, but it’s a lot. For days leading up to Christmas I had a feeling behind my eyes like I’d been crying hard and the exhaustion that comes after a soul-reaching cry like that had settled into my bones. Only I hadn’t been crying and I didn’t even think I was sad enough to squeeze out a tear if I tried. “Queue the cameras, the widow’s going to cry. Cut! Get her an onion!”  What the heck was wrong with me? I thought maybe the mini sugar binge I was on could have caused it or maybe the bag of vinegar and sea salt kettle chips I ate and shouldn’t have mixed with my high blood pressure made me feel the way I did. I haven’t had those sorts of things in my diet for months. Maybe being naughty instead of nice had caught up with me? Then I obsessed thinking I was dying. Nope, my pulse was still strong and the dog wasn’t checking my breath the way he does sometimes when he’s wondering if it’s time to start digging my grave. (Hint: Never shut your eyes around a Schnauzer.) Having ruled dying out of the equation, I thought maybe I was going through the holiday blues and was getting too old to recognize the symptoms. In the end decided I needed to take an aspirin and call the doctor in the morning. Maybe a blood test was in order.

Queue the e-mail from my niece offering to pick me up for the Christmas Eve party at her sister’s house out in the boondocks. Mind you Google says this takes her out of her way by 68 miles round trip (she says less, who you gotta believe?) and I stressed over the decision to let her do it, or not. We had three to five inches of wet, heavy snow predicted and I had already sent a text to my youngest niece saying that my old eyes and the predicted weather was going to keep me at home. God, I felt bad about that! Family who don’t always get to attend her annual party because of work or living out of state, were going to be there this year, not to mention we have two new babies in the family to maul and plaster with affection. Not to mention that I also had the photo essay books of my mom and dad back from the printer and ready to give out. The roller coaster chucked its way up to the top by the time the noon weather forecast was over. The storm had been downgraded and I decided to accept my niece’s more than kind offer.

For the rest of the day and into the night the roller coaster got stuck at the top. How cool is that? After the noon weather report was over I threw together my marinated four bean salad and hoped it could do its job in six hours instead of the required overnight marinate. I had some Tuscan, herb infused olive oil (sun-dried tomatoes and garlic) and Sicilian Lemon infused balsamic vinegar that both cost a fortunate and I figured they would more than make up for the lack of hours. I left the half a cup of red onions out of my recipe just in case six hours wasn’t enough time to soak the rawness out of them. Maybe if I didn’t tell anyone they wouldn’t notice. It was a recipe my mother always made for parties when I was growing up and I improved with the foodie quality oil and vinegar. I hadn’t made it in a long time but a few people at the party remembered it from years ago. My niece’s mother-in-law even asked me for the recipe. I doubt anyone has ever asking ME, the inept-cook, for a recipe before.

The down-graded one to three inches of snow never materialized. Still, it was rainy and not the best driving conditions but I was happy the little kids all got cheated out of their promised white Christmas. Safe driving conditions always trumps ‘pretty’ in my book. (Screw Santa and his sleigh. He could use wheels like the rest of us.) The party was all the sweeter because I hadn’t planned on going and it was the first time since Don’s stroke in 2000 that I had a designated driver so I was able to drink all the red wine I wanted. For my brother and me, red wine is a family tradition that goes all the way back to when we were nine-ten years old and my Italian dad would give us each a shot glass full on special occasions. I had three glasses of wine on Christmas Eve, ate way too many sweets but I had the best time.

At some point in the evening the entire group, roughly 21 of us---young and old alike---divided into two teams pitting the men against the women and we played a fast-paced game. It involved shouting out the answers to clues given and it brought lots of laughter when people called out the wrong answers, either accidentally or on purpose. Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed my roller coaster riding Christmas this year even if the dog did leave me a “gift” in the middle of the floor that I nearly stepped in when the ride came to an end. Jeez, Jean, you’ve got to let your four-legged kid outside once in a while, I told myself on Christmas morning. "Oops. Sorry Levi." ©