Friday night found me Christmas caroling with a knot of friends in the chilly night air. We were wrapped up in scarfs and coats and cloaks, gripping our song books through gloves and mittens. No doubt we looked a little like the blow-up snowmen and penguins that bedecked my neighbors' lawns.
Jenny and I volunteered to help our dance teacher with a benefit she was putting on for a local private school this past weekend. She was doing a dinner and silent auction with a Victorian Christmas theme and had seen my Victorian day gown on my dress form a few months back. I told her about our Thimbelina Sewing Guild with an affinity for historical and fantasy costumes, and she asked if Jenny and I would be willing to come in our Victorian gear and be greeters, interact with the guests a little.
Last night I took the Christmas decorations down from the attic. I pulled out the stockings and the candles and set to work decorating the mantle above the fireplace. There were four mini-pumpkins sitting there. Those ought to go out into the yard waste bin, I thought. I picked them up. They were all still in surprisingly good condition. Hmm. Well, it's cold outside. I'll take them out later. I put them down on the kitchen table.
Here we are at t- 1 hour to turkey day and now I'll spill my confession. I've been listening to Christmas music for a week. I know, I know. There are rules. No Christmas until we're through with Thanksgiving. "Well," I thought, "since I did Thanksgiving with my family last week, then I'm sort of allowed. But just music. That's it."
It seems like everybody has that one attempted holiday meal that they never live down. Once at Thanksgiving my Uncle Steve put too much milk in the mashed potatoes. We all graciously thanked him for bringing the Cream of Wheat amid peals of laughter, and not a Thanksgiving goes by now that we don't recall this event as we pass around the mashed potatoes.
My spectacular blunder shall be known as The Coconut Chicken Cake Incident of Easter Dinner, 2005.