The curse of having expanded, double-bloated, more-channels-than-God cable is that I keep finding my favorite holiday specials when they have all but 10 minutes or so left til the ho-ho-ho the end. It's like getting the Bass without the Rankin. Not to be confused with spankin' the rankin—that's an altogether different ho ho ho. Makes me miss the days when my sister and I would fight to grab the Holiday Preview issue of TV Guide from the grocery bag and dog-ear every page that contained a Christmas Special listing. Sigh—sis is all growed up and I can't seem to relate their nostalgic magic to PM and the dog. It's true - the holidays can be so lonely without a well-stocked bar and an endless supply of ice.
The weekend was busy—we had our first holiday house guests at Morningwood Manor. The West Wing is dripping in holiday decor, —so it was best suited for company. I spent most of Saturday at the Farmer's Market and then in the kichen whipping up a scrump dinner—pork loin stuffed with Italian sausage, apples and shallots, a divoon garlic mash and quite possibly, the best coallrds ever made. Oh, and I made a rather loverly apple pie as well. Six for dinner made this our first full table in the Grande Dining Room—along with the debut of our new Christmas China from ChezTarjay. It was just a wonderful evening that stretched into the late hours still talking around the table. Yeah.
The only other notable weekend happening was our attendance at the big gay holiday party that is The Toy Party. Despite the see and be seen aspect of such large gatherings of the gays, when the organizers get it right—it can be an enjoyable evening for a good, albeit not enormously necessary cause. But when they don't get it right, it can turn into huge throngs of people standing shoulder to shoulder in huge bar lines waiting 30+ minutes to get a watered -down cocktail in a space ridiculously inadequate for the numbers of attendees and lit almost entirely with overhead florescent lighting.
Did I miss anything? No, that about sums it up. Throw in the thrill of seeing who actually buys that shit from the International Male catalog (3 sizes too small) and you have this year's event in a nutshell. I really would like to like this event. I really would. Every year I tell myself that this will be the last, only to be wooed back by one of our friends who is volunteering for the event and SWEARS they have worked out all the kinks and it will be FABULOUS this time. Yeah, I think we're done.
The countdown is on at work—7 business days and counting y'all. After the 18th, I shall not darken the doorstep of my counting house until after the new year. Two weeks of nuthing—a little present I try to give myself each year. It really is the gift that keeps on giving.
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