Peg's had her gay fan Steve from Florida visiting for five days so I haven't heard from her, not counting her ringing me by mistake at midnight yet again. I get the full report however, from Bonnie. And I hope everyone will be as pleased as I was to learn that Peg is once more out of printer ink and has put in an order at Staples for another $300 worth. Partially my fault, as I didn't get to Steve in time to warn him to stay clear of any invitations to help make Blue Books. Bonnie thought he was napping upstairs but turns out he was out in Peg's office using up ink. Peg had him doing 200 copies of things, full colour glossies mostly, so the good news is we now have enough color prints of fishers and of Peg's old New York apartment building to send to everyone in the entire country and possibly Mexico.
And then she ordered a prime rib from the butchers, which Steve cooked. Peg does not like roast beef, cannot chew it. Never buys it, never orders it. She then bought another one for Christmas dinner tomorrow which Dominick will be cooking. He is working free of charge, it being Christmas, as he and his partner Jeffrey will be dining with Peg, as will Trevor and Bob and maybe their young bit of stuff Ali from Turkey I think, as will Laurie, the artist, miniaturist to be exact, from Cincinnati, who I think Peg would like for a daughter and who arrives in an hour and will hopefully stay a week or more, thus giving Terri a break from over-night duty.
And then she called the dog lady, the collie-breeder, and told her she wants two puppies in January, so the breeder emailed me in a panic, I told her to disregard Peg's demand, and reiterated that we would like the proceeds from a puppy (about $1000) and not the puppy. Though they are indeed cute. If you like needle-nose peabrain collies.
Last year at this time I was preparing a little Norwegian Julen celebration for my parents, very little of which was actually eaten by said parents, though I'm sure appreciated, in their own "Really? It's Christmas Eve?" sort of way. After which they both choked into their plates on the liquer chocolates from Heathrow I'd brought and I had to swab the table.
This year I prepared a little Norwegian Julen for son and husband, both of whom were about as much help as Peg and Odd were, possibly less, and I am thinking that I am not doing this ever again ever. I wanted to make a special effort for them since I was away last year and I've ended up having to practically turn their heads towards oh, the Xmas decor on the piano, by the front door, the gingerbread personalized hearts--before any of it gets noticed. Plus questions like "Why are you cooking a ham?" or "Who are the cookies for?" are starting to get up my nose, big time, and I seem to be saying "Because it's fucking Christmas, okay!" a lot.
Next year I want to spend Xmas in Norway. They celebrate for about 10 days, nothing but food and cakes and cookies and waffles and so on for ten days. I could get into that.
Now we're all off to the Anchor, the local, for dinner and a Christmas sing-a-long with DK at the keyboard at 9:00 PM with Alex behid the bar and about ready to slit his wrists because DK and will do our party piece, a duet, Baby It's Cold Outside, something Alex thinks is possibly the most embarrassing thing any parents could do. Little dreaming he has a lot to learn in this department (wait till he sees his Dad in his green mankini with the holly sprig sticking out of his arse).
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