Good to be home
I went to my sister Brennie's house yesterday for my newest niece's christening which did not take place due to the baby's fever of 103 F. (the doc said that the wee one's got a virus) One of the blessings about being in my family is that we never allow small things to defeat us. The gathering turned into an impromptu Christmas party with packages, yummies and alcohol galore. We opened gifts late in the afternoon after grazing on spinach dip, pigs-in-blankets and the best ribs I have ever eatten in my entire being. The kids went to bed early, exhausted by the unwrapping excitement and my father and his wife shuttled off to their hotel. The rest of us played card games, caught up on family gossip and then the party began in earnest. My sisters, being much wiser than me, went to bed early and relatively sober. I made the sublime error of staying up late with the brothers-in-alcohol, playing trivia games and quite frankly I don't remember much after the bottle of Dewar's 12 year old scotch was kicked-it's a blur. I vaguely remember that we started watching movies but I don't know when we started. At 3 am I crashed (the bros were still going strong, I think??)...to be awakened 4 hours later by what sounded like General George S Patton's third army division rolling through the first floor of the house.
The basement cum entertainment room bore all the tell tale signs that a bash had taken place. Glasses, empty popcorn bowls and cigars littered the room. I had passed out in front of the large screen tv which still had The Good, The Bad and The Ugly playing on it. My brother-in-law John was seated in the Lazy Boy, snoring, deep in the arms of Morpheous and held the remote in a death grip. I deduced that in his alcohol induced state he'd muted the movie. My other brother-in-law had zonked, seated at his computer with game controller in his hands and head phones still hugging his ears. The thundering little feet, squeals of childish delight and the buzz of a remote control car helped me to realize that the army was not moving through the house, the kids were awake. Scraping sleepy dirt from my eyes I cautiously rolled off the sofa and made my way to the shower. I felt like the bottom of a dumpster and needed to scape the fur from my teeth, soap and hot water were in order! The shower was agonizing, every pore in my body felt bruised. I gingerly got dressed and accidently hit my head on the sink cabinet. It felt like my head was going to explode, not an auspicious beginning. I came out of the bathroom and greeted the Living Dead. They grunted from the dim recesses of the basement as I passed them on my way up the stairs.
Ascending to the floor of activity, I squinted as bright light singed my eyes. I was surprised that I didn't burst into flames. My father and his wife were preparing a massive breakfast, my stomach rolled as frying odors wafted past me. My sister Brennie was chasing her 3 year old son around the house, he wasn't wearing underpants and was giggling his head off. My other sister Kelly was watching my two nieces perform a made up ballet (to the golden tones of the Chipmunks Christmas cd played at ear splitting decibals), compete with pink tutus and lots of sparkles. My other 4 year old nephew was wearing small skis and pretending to slolem his way down the hall. I expected Rod Serling to step out of the kitchen pantry at any moment and welcome me into the Twilight Zone. My body cried out for something to jolt it back into reality. Brennie, bless her non-clogged arteries, does not stock anything that she considers bad, namely caffine, any food items with fat and under no circumstances junk food. I began to pray for a swift, bloodless death and was broken from my dismay by my sisters making fun of the Godzilla fin of hair that sprouted from the top of my head. My father gave me a bear hug and handed me a glass of scotch saying, "Hair of the dog that bit you."
I wanted to reply, No Dad it wasn't a dog that bit me it was a 5000 lb gorilla bearing some mighty fine scotch who stomped my ass to Nebraska and back, but I grinned then winced as every muscle of my face throbbed. Too much alcohol and not enough sleep will do that to ya. My father took pity on me, handed me a glass of tomato juice and some aspirin then continued prepping brunch.
The Living Dead (that would be my brothers-in-alcohol) arrived on the scene and our ear drums bled as cries of "Daddy, Daddy" echoed through the house. The Zombies winced at me as their legs were hugged by supercharged children, I winced back, silently begging for a brain transplant. My sister finally caught the 3 year old nudist, clothed him and we all sat down to breakfast.
My father prepared enough food for a third world nation, sausage, pancakes, scrambled eggs, grits, and hash browns. Sadly the coffee was decaf and not a Mountain Dew in sight to help me regain some semblence of normal brain function. Breakfast banter inculded but was not limited to insects, gross things, discussions of all things surgical which is so soothing when one has a terrific hang over (my father's 2nd wife is a Veternarian, my sister is a nurse and one brother-in-alcohol is a hypochondriac-my family is ruthless when it comes to pity for the hung). I grumbled with my Zombie brethren as we quietly fought to keep food down. Holiday memories were made and recipes for hang over cures were exchanged. Needless to say I was relieved when the meal was over.
After cleaning up the kitchen, we packed up all the vehicles and after saying our goodbyes headed off to our respective homes. On the drive back to my apartment my mind began to wander, so much so that I missed my exit off of 70 east bound. lol I am an idiot, in my funk I drove half way to my old house before realizing my error. I'm going to take a nap now lol.
Note to self-beware of the borthers-in-alcohol and a nice bottle of scotch.
The basement cum entertainment room bore all the tell tale signs that a bash had taken place. Glasses, empty popcorn bowls and cigars littered the room. I had passed out in front of the large screen tv which still had The Good, The Bad and The Ugly playing on it. My brother-in-law John was seated in the Lazy Boy, snoring, deep in the arms of Morpheous and held the remote in a death grip. I deduced that in his alcohol induced state he'd muted the movie. My other brother-in-law had zonked, seated at his computer with game controller in his hands and head phones still hugging his ears. The thundering little feet, squeals of childish delight and the buzz of a remote control car helped me to realize that the army was not moving through the house, the kids were awake. Scraping sleepy dirt from my eyes I cautiously rolled off the sofa and made my way to the shower. I felt like the bottom of a dumpster and needed to scape the fur from my teeth, soap and hot water were in order! The shower was agonizing, every pore in my body felt bruised. I gingerly got dressed and accidently hit my head on the sink cabinet. It felt like my head was going to explode, not an auspicious beginning. I came out of the bathroom and greeted the Living Dead. They grunted from the dim recesses of the basement as I passed them on my way up the stairs.
Ascending to the floor of activity, I squinted as bright light singed my eyes. I was surprised that I didn't burst into flames. My father and his wife were preparing a massive breakfast, my stomach rolled as frying odors wafted past me. My sister Brennie was chasing her 3 year old son around the house, he wasn't wearing underpants and was giggling his head off. My other sister Kelly was watching my two nieces perform a made up ballet (to the golden tones of the Chipmunks Christmas cd played at ear splitting decibals), compete with pink tutus and lots of sparkles. My other 4 year old nephew was wearing small skis and pretending to slolem his way down the hall. I expected Rod Serling to step out of the kitchen pantry at any moment and welcome me into the Twilight Zone. My body cried out for something to jolt it back into reality. Brennie, bless her non-clogged arteries, does not stock anything that she considers bad, namely caffine, any food items with fat and under no circumstances junk food. I began to pray for a swift, bloodless death and was broken from my dismay by my sisters making fun of the Godzilla fin of hair that sprouted from the top of my head. My father gave me a bear hug and handed me a glass of scotch saying, "Hair of the dog that bit you."
I wanted to reply, No Dad it wasn't a dog that bit me it was a 5000 lb gorilla bearing some mighty fine scotch who stomped my ass to Nebraska and back, but I grinned then winced as every muscle of my face throbbed. Too much alcohol and not enough sleep will do that to ya. My father took pity on me, handed me a glass of tomato juice and some aspirin then continued prepping brunch.
The Living Dead (that would be my brothers-in-alcohol) arrived on the scene and our ear drums bled as cries of "Daddy, Daddy" echoed through the house. The Zombies winced at me as their legs were hugged by supercharged children, I winced back, silently begging for a brain transplant. My sister finally caught the 3 year old nudist, clothed him and we all sat down to breakfast.
My father prepared enough food for a third world nation, sausage, pancakes, scrambled eggs, grits, and hash browns. Sadly the coffee was decaf and not a Mountain Dew in sight to help me regain some semblence of normal brain function. Breakfast banter inculded but was not limited to insects, gross things, discussions of all things surgical which is so soothing when one has a terrific hang over (my father's 2nd wife is a Veternarian, my sister is a nurse and one brother-in-alcohol is a hypochondriac-my family is ruthless when it comes to pity for the hung). I grumbled with my Zombie brethren as we quietly fought to keep food down. Holiday memories were made and recipes for hang over cures were exchanged. Needless to say I was relieved when the meal was over.
After cleaning up the kitchen, we packed up all the vehicles and after saying our goodbyes headed off to our respective homes. On the drive back to my apartment my mind began to wander, so much so that I missed my exit off of 70 east bound. lol I am an idiot, in my funk I drove half way to my old house before realizing my error. I'm going to take a nap now lol.
Note to self-beware of the borthers-in-alcohol and a nice bottle of scotch.
posted by Bea at
2:28 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home