Alison put in to “be called off” today, but she didn’t get it . . . so she worked and is working as I type. We had a real slow-paced Christmas Eve Day here at the house – I got my hair colored and went to the grocery for a short trip. Made some deviled eggs and Summer and I put bubble lights on a branch that had broken off the blue spruce tree. They look pretty cool in the darkened kitchen. We also set out our “secret weapon” wreath with the 16 function twinkling lights. I was a little worried about the frenetic blinking causing epileptic attacks in drivers going by, but I guess either no one looked or it is a groundless concern.
What I dread doing is going downstairs and poking the turkey to see if it is thawed; I don’t want to do the cold water trick early in the morning. It’s a smallish turkey with three extra legs – no extra breast tucked in this time. We are having ham as well. But, you know what? I cannot find the lemon lime jell-o salad recipe that we have always made. I googled and couldn’t find it, Somewhere in the house is a green tattered paper held together with duct tape. I could wing it but figure, oh well.
I’m at loose ends, wondering if I’m starting the “old people’s Christmas” routine. It seems . . . Christmas comes; Christmas goes.
Sydney has elevated enzymes again and is on a strict diet. We are watching him like hawks to see if he shows discomfort and stops drinking for then it will be hospital time. Right now he’s on four medicines – that’s a lot of pills being tossed down his throat. Der Bingle is downstairs again, feeling a little perkier.
I feel like I am sending a telegram of facts – which I guess is now a fax. And now I am thinking of Dragnet – hey, I guess there’s usually a little bit of the ole AmeliaJake somewhere.