Upon the arrival of more guests than planned, I grew extremely concerned that we just wouldn't have enough space to hold everyone. As my count of RSVP'd people reached 34, why now are my neighbors and old friends arriving?
I couldn't figure it out for the life of me. Talk about walking in a serious cloud of confusion. After our neighbors sat themselves down at the table it dawned on me.....
I FORGOT TO PUT THE HAM IN!!
OH MY G-D!
We're talking a 22lb ham that needs it's special homemade glaze that was created by, (don't quote me) my Aunt Jennifer. That special dark brown sugar with cloves and pineapple, glaze. The kind that makes you want to stick your fingers on top of the ham and swirl it around like you're licking the bowl after preparing a meringue cake.
Being that it takes 10minutes per pound to heat, and that it was already 1:30, I was screwed. How am I going to break it to all these people that they will not be eating Ham on Easter? I decided to put the ham in the oven anyways, I mean, it's only 2.5hours of heating, we could find something else to keep our grubby hands busy with until it's finished. That's when I realized that not only did I forget to heat the ham, but I also forgot to pick it up from our local grocer.
Shit. Now I'm really screwed.
Luckily I came up with an excuse to run out to pick it up-I had forgotten the rolls as well, so I mentioned to my mom that I'll be back in a bit as I had to go pick up the rolls that I left at the store. Why didn't I just tell her the truth about the ham? She's not one to judge at all. As a matter of fact my mom's one of those that turns her cheek time and time again. Why would she care if I forgot the ham?
Running out to the store to pick up the ham as well as the rolls was a mission in itself. I kept thinking I'd get a posted message on my laptop telling me my mission will self destruct in 5seconds, should I not find the rolls that I came for.
Returning home I was met with shattered glass on our dining room floor. Papa J the big Greek, yelling at his blond wife about something in Greek. Ramone (that's my secret name for my neighbor next door) was on his knee's on our main floor bathroom.
I guess while I was gone, Ramone noticed a mouse scurrying past him on our hardwood floor. This prompting Papa J to completely freak out, jumping up out of his seat knocking over the champagne flutes that I've had in my family for decades.
FABULOUS! What now?
Papa J getting scolded by his blond wife for his childlike behavior over that silly lil' mouse. Papa J returning his grapes of wrath by screaming at his wife to not tell him what he can and cannot be afraid of. The word Melaka (For anyone that speaks Greek or knows any Greeks, the word Melaka is probably the most ubiquitous word in the Greek lexicon) flying across the table like shattered plates at a Greek wedding, I couldn't believe the drama I was watching unfold.
Suddenly I hear, "MOOOOmmmmmyyyy I scared!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Pulling myself out of the present, and focusing on my son's voice off in the distant shadow's, everything turns pitch black.
Composing myself, I open my eyes and realize that all of that craziness was just a random dream. All of it with the exception of the "mommmyyyyyyy I scared," part. Our lil Sullivan had had a bad dream.
"So did I, hunny, so did I," I tell him.
But why have a dream of that magnitude? I can understand if I'm nervous or stressed. But I'm not, I'm completely organized. I've got my lists, everything's in order, now it's just the matter of waiting for the day to arrive. I even have how everything will be arranged, mapped out in my cloudy brain.
If I can get through Passover, which started this past Monday, why freak out over something that I'm completely prepared for?
Go figure. Course, dreams never seem to make any sense to me. So why are they suddenlyafter 32 years, going to start making sense now?
Welcome to Crustybeef~
I am prepped and ready AND looking forward to the arrival of 34 (kids included) family members this coming Sunday.