So let me tell you about the miracle of ham my friends. It comes with a bit of lore to it. My step-monster is OBSESSED with hams from a certain local meat market. Every freaking holiday she brings up this damn ham. Last year, my step-sister in law (who we will call Lucy)hosted christmas eve. She got a total of TWELVE (and im not exaggerating) phone calls from step-monster, step-sister and step-grandma all offering to bring this particular ham. To the point where my step brother literally said that he would throw the f-ing ham in the driveway if they showed up with it. Lucy was annoyed with this as well as she took it as a lack of confidence of being able to plan dinner.
This year, Buddy (Buddy is my younger brother’s wife. Ive finally realized I could use Norm’s name for her as her moniker) tells me at the beginning of december that step-monster offered to bring the ham to christmas dinner. My younger brother agreed to this without buddy’s knowledge so Buddy had to convince them not to cook it (because my step-monster canNOT cook).
So as fate would have it, I ended up hosting the christmas eve gathering. As soon as I found out, I started dropping ham hints, just to see what would happen. When my dad asked what they could bring, I left an opening a MILE WIDE for the ham offer. And what do you think happened gentle readers? NOTHING. Apparently, I was not ham worthy.
So about three days before christmas I got an idea.
An AWFUL IDEA.
I got A WONDERFUL AWFUL IDEA.
“I know just what to do” I laughed in my throat.
“Ill cook a ham myself just to show that old goat!” (it was so deliciously grinchy i just couldnt resist)
And when my dad called on friday, he offered to bring sauce. I said “sure” and told him with feigned innocence that I thought Id make a ham. I could hear the goat in the background snarking something about the sauce not being good enough. My dad ignored her and I continued to wax about how i would be making my first ham and my dad (who can be quite salty at times) said, “Crs” (He calls me crs instead of crse a lot) “Its not that challenging, you stick it in a pan and cook it” and we laughed. Him with the idea I was challenged by the ham, me with the glee that the step-monster had the ham seed planted.
So Saturday, I clued Gill-smoke in on the plan and we bought what came to be known as our passive aggressive ham. Gill stuck it in the oven around ten am sunday morning. Im not sure exactly how it happened but there appeared to be some changing of oven times and temperatures and the end result was a dried out ham. Gill was a bit disappointed but I gentle readers? I was fricking GLEEFUL. What is better than a passive aggressive ham? A passive aggressive poorly cooked ham! I couldnt WAIT for them to arrive so i could start “worrying” about the ham aloud in front of her. When they finally showed up, I started immediately with the “its too dry and too salty, i dont know what i did wrong” Honestly? That was all i needed for christmas. Because we all knew she had provided the ham for every other family function. And she never offered and there it was. In the harsh light of day. Her hamstinginess naked in front of God and baby Jesus and everyone. What made the whole thing even more delightful was that she did not eat ONE THING that she did not bring herself. (she brought cavatelli made wiht my dad’s home-made sauce and a strange jello thing that Gretty loved) (a little shout out to Gretty who opened the door for me being able to openly bust stepmonster lying about ingredients). The day just kept getting better and better. My favorite part was a drawn out discussion with my father about the ham issues and she tried to pipe in and i was able to say “But step-monster! You havent even tried it!” Oh Baby Jesus smiled upon the panflutemaster house on Christmas eve. Have no doubts friends. Have no doubts.
I did manage to carry it into Christmas Day by dragging Buddy into the conversation by bragging on her ham and again dragging my ham into it, thus pointing out again to everyone that NO SHE DID NOT BRING A HAM to my house. Sometimes i think I have a problem. But then I drink some more and it all passes….
Ah folks. Its all over but the crying. Knew we were back in the woods today when I attempted to correct Norm this morning and he said saucily “I dont care. Santa isnt watching anymore.” As far as holidays go it was a nice one. We have a Brand New TV which doesnt fit in the entertainment center. We are beside ourselves with this 27 inch wonder. After six months of the 20 inch, its like being at the movies. In fact, norm just said now that it was like “aunt buddy’s tv” (Aunt buddy has a big screen. Our lives are so sad) But everyone is content and gill is out buying organizational products to help contain the madness. He is back now and demanding that I throw myself back in the sea of toys. Merry Christmas, Happy Saturnalia and Joyeux Pule (Its what you get when you merge pie and yule)