Sunday, 25 December 2011

The Ghost of Swedish meatballs past

The Swedes.
I don't know how they do it.
I woke up this morning with an aching gut from all the butter and cream I consumed last night at our Nordic feast.
It was fantastic; don't get me wrong.
Swedish meat-a-balls, potatoes laced with butter, cream and anchovies, red cabbage laced with apples and vinegar. My own lemon cake as the finale.
But woof.
I woke up in the middle of the night, in such gut agony, I couldn't decide which end needed the attention of the porcelain bowl more.
In the end, I managed to quell my turbulent, acidic waters with a glass of gingerale.
But then the dreams started. First, I was back at the Laundromat being held captive by the Guyanese owner who was nattering on about a customer who didn't pick up her drying cleaning.
Then I was at the house of a former friend who was kvetching about the sources of our discord.
Finally, I was at somebody's house, sitting there, unable to move, knowing I had to pick Scott up at the car dealership.
Boring dreams, for sure, the Swedish equivalent of the three ghosts of Christmas: laundry lady, former friend and impatient husband.
I was waiting for ABBA to jump into my head belting out Dancing Queen.
Christmas Eve went on without a hitch. The kids and significant others showed up bearing gifts, strangely, the same gifts. Stef got us a Kobo book reader and Marissa got us a Kindle book reader.
Hmmm. Perhaps they were trying to tell us we should read more.
But the highlight of the night was the present Marissa bought for Stef -- booby slippers, gigantic pink nippled hoofers that reminded me of the titties in that Woody Allen film, the ones that chased people around shooting milk at them.
Stef is pretty easy to please. He loved his booby slippers.
He teased the dogs with them.

The night ended with an encore performance of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, a movie that Stef bought us a couple of years ago.
It's the gift that keeps on giving.
It came with a hat, coasters and fake white snow.
Can't get cheesier than that.
All in all, we had a wonderful Christmas.
I am paying for it today.
It's a good memory.
Hope you made memories, too.

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