Story 520: Obligatory Card Season

             (Friend 1 and Friend 2 are seated at the kitchen table in Friend 1’s apartment; Friend 2 sips tea while Friend 1 works through a huge pile of mail)

Friend 1: (Ripping open envelopes, glancing briefly at the contents, and tossing them onto the table) – so then I said, “I get that you’re a manager with no actual break times and the expectation that you’re on-call 24/7, but I refuse to accept your being salaried as my problem when you want to stop for a snack at the exact same time I’m scheduled for dinner break, I don’t care if you only need five minutes.”

Friend 2: (Chokes on the tea) You didn’t actually say that, did you?

Friend 1: No, but I was sorely tempted to – I was hangry and it was getting to me.  (Opens a square red envelope, takes out and opens a greeting card, and widens eyes in horror) Uh-oh.

Friend 2: What, an eviction notice?

Friend 1: No!  Why would you even think that?!

Friend 2: (Slightly picks up one of the tossed-aside letters) Not to be an overly nosy friend, but half of these are bills.

Friend 1: And will be dealt with, all in good time!

Friend 2: Past due.

Friend 1: My time, not theirs!  (Holds up the card) It’s a Christmas card from one of my cousins!

Friend 2: Aw, how nice.

Friend 1: No it isn’t, because I completely forgot to send out mine!  (Rustles through the remainder of the mail pile and pulls out a bunch of red, green, and white decorative square envelopes) Look at all these!  They’re all coming in now, and I have yet to send out a single one!  With the month already almost half over!  (Tosses the cards back onto the table)

Friend 2: Yeah.

Friend 1: …I missed Hanukkah, didn’t I.

Friend 2: I wasn’t going to bring it up.

Friend 1: Son of a – !  Happy Hanukkah, by the way; I hope you had a nice one.

Friend 2: Thank you; the family says they hope you have a Merry Christmas.

Friend 1: (Grabs an envelope and holds it up) Your folks sent me a card, too!  (Also tosses it back onto the table, then grabs another one and holds it up) And here’s yours!  (Tosses that back onto the table as well, and rubs face) Is it too late to send out Hanukkah cards for this year, or would that only double-underline my faux pas?

Friend 2: Don’t worry, if you send them out now I promise we won’t return them to sender.

Friend 1: Thanks, you’re a very understanding pal.  (Runs hands through the multicolored pile of joyful wishes) Maybe I should just skip this year completely and they’ll all thank me for having to send out one less card going forward, since I’ll be crossed off the ever-growing list.

Friend 2: Maybe they would secretly, but at family functions your name would forever be mud.

Friend 1: You got that right.  (Sinks head onto the table)

Friend 2: (Finishes the tea and brings the cup to the sink to wash it) Whelp, I would offer to help in the spirit of the season, but I really don’t feel like spending the rest of my Sunday being your correspondence secretary so I’m going to play the guilt card you handed me earlier and leave you to tackle this on your own.

Friend 1: (Sits up again) Fair enough.  As your revel in your freedom this afternoon, think of me and my self-imposed toil.

Friend 2: I’d rather not.  (Leaves)

Friend 1: (Stares at the pile of cards, which seems to have grown when no one was looking) Why do we inflict this chore on ourselves?

ONE HOUR LATER

(Friend 1 is back at the table having gathered boxed cards, stamps, pens, an address book, and run out to the store for more boxed cards when seeing that the current boxes were almost empty)

Friend 1: (Braces self) Right.  Let us begin with the letter “A”.  (Opens the address book to “A”, brings the book closer to stare at the page, then roughly turns pages to skim through the names) What – why have I never noticed that a bunch of these relatives have been dead for years?!... And why has the post office never told me either?!  (Grabs a pen and starts crossing out names) And great, the rest of these moved so now I need to call around for new addresses – this is going to take forever!

TWO HOURS LATER

(Friend 1 is on a roll writing out cards and envelopes)

Friend 1: (Freezes in mid-sealing of an envelope) Wait a minute – is this one still at the same address as the parents?  (Flips back through the address book to an earlier letter in the alphabet) Yep, and I gave them all the same card!  (Unseals the envelope and opens the card) Think anyone’ll notice correction tape?

TWO HOURS LATER

(Friend 1 sits back in the chair and shakes out writer’s-cramped hand)

Friend 1: Done.  It’s done at last.  They can all be satisfied with our mutual obligation for at least one more year.  Now to the easy part.  (Grabs a sheet of stamps as the cell phone rings; answers the call after looking at the ID) Hey, what’s up?

Friend 2: (Voice) Just checking on the status of your homework.

Friend 1: (Stamping envelopes absent-mindedly) You’re hilarious.  Yes, I have finally reached the end of the address book for all 732 of my relatives, along with a few friends – you and your family and several others are getting generic “Season’s Greetings” cards at this point, by the way.

Friend 2: (Voice) Fine by me.  Don’t you love this time of year?

Friend 1: You know, it’s often hard to tell if you’re being sincere or sarcastic.  (Suddenly gasps)

Friend 2: (Voice) Oh no, what holiday horror is it now?

Friend 1: I RAN OUT OF STAMPS!

Story 517: You Had One Dish to Bring on Thanksgiving

 WEDNESDAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING

 (Relative 1 sits at a kitchen table paying bills on a laptop)

Relative 1: (Squints while leaning closer to the screen) They’re charging me a credit card fee after I’m saving them money by going paperless?!  Rude.  (Cell phone rings; Relative 1 picks up the phone, smiles on seeing the name on the caller ID, and answers) Hi there, Happy Early Thanksgiving, how –

Relative 2: (Has a cell phone propped against an ear and shoulder while pushing an overflowing shopping cart down a supermarket aisle surrounded by frenzied shoppers and constant panicked overhead announcements) I’ll cut right to the chase: seven family members cancelled on me last-minute due to various viruses and now I’m short on side dishes, so instead of salad I’m gonna need you to bring mashed potatoes instead.

Relative 1: Ohhhhh…. (Looks over at bags of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and an empty bowl all lined up on the counter) I was just about the make that up right after I finished depleting my bank account for the month.

Relative 2: Perfect timing, then – return what you didn’t use and get me mashed potatoes!  Please.

Relative 1: Um, I’m not sure you actually want me to make mashed potatoes.

Relative 2: (Tossing boxes of baking soda, flour, and sugar into the cart) What’s to make?  You go to the aisle with the refrigerated cases, get about five or so of the premade packages, and we empty `em into a large bowl and heat it up right before dinner!  I’d get them myself but now I have to make the corn casserole, cranberry sauce, apple pie, and pumpkin pie, and frankly neither I nor my budget can face one more bit of foodstuff on top of all that no matter how trivial it may seem.

Relative 1: But what about the salad?

Relative 2: No one cares about the salad!  I only asked you to bring it because it’s impossible to mess up and pretty much everyone skips it anyway!

Relative 1: Well I never – !

Relative 2: (Dashing the cart up another aisle aiming for the last two pie crusts in a refrigerated display case) Well you have now; no more time to chat; hours behind schedule; see you tomorrow; hugs and kisses; byeeeee!!!  (Drops the phone into the cart and dives into the crowd surrounding the case) MINE!

Relative 1: (Stares at the silent phone, then over at the now-useless salad stuff) So this means I have to go to a supermarket on the day before Thanksgiving?  (Eye starts twitching)

 STILL WEDNESDAY – 9:00 P.M.

 (Relative 1 rummages through the nearly-empty vegetable section of a refrigerated display case in a different, slightly less-crowded supermarket)

Relative 1: Ergghhh… all mashed cauliflower, no mashed potatoes.... (Grabs a box) Maybe I can get away with roasted potatoes?

Relative 2: [Voice in Relative 1’s head] I said “mashed”!!!

Relative 1: (Shudders and replaces the box on the shelf, still holding the door open to stare at the remaining products) So no mashed potatoes – do I need to buy actual potatoes and mash them myself?  (Shudders harder)

Shopper 1: (Zips a shopping cart to a stop next to the door) `Scuse me, can I get in there, please?

Relative 1: Huh?  Oh, yeah.  (Widens the door and steps aside)

Shopper 1: (Scoops boxes into the cart) You know, I couldn’t help overhearing your external monologue – there are boxes of potato flakes in Aisle 7 that you basically just mix and heat up to make mashed potatoes.

Relative 1: (Gasps) Really?!  Just like that?!

Shopper 1: (Still scooping) Yep: no muss, no fuss.

Relative 1: (Runs down the aisle) Thank you – thank you – thank you!

Shopper 1: (Moves on to another case, opens the door, and begins scooping more boxes into the cart) Sure thing – just need milk and butter.

Relative 1: (Skids to a stop and turns back) Eh?

Shopper 1: Oh, and salt, but you probably can get away with seasoning it later.  (Closes the door and speeds off in the opposite direction) Good luck!

Relative 1: (Starts shaking) …Ingredients?!

(In Aisle 7, Relative 1 holds up a box of potato flakes and scrutinizes the minimal instructions)

Relative 1: But what type of milk?  What type of butter?  Why are there no specifics?  (Looks up to the ceiling) Thanksgiving’s gonna be ruined because of MEEEEEE!!!!

Shopper 2: (In mid-rush with an overflowing shopping cart; briefly pauses next to Relative 1) Used to feel the same way: just tell everybody it’s that or nothing, they shut up real fast.  (Resumes sprint as Relative 1 stares after, then back at the box in a panic)

THANKSGIVING – BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT

 (At Relative 2’s house, chaos reigns as multiple dishes are being prepared simultaneously in the kitchen, adults yell at each other in order to be heard, and children yell at each other just because)

Relative 2: (To Relative 3) Could you start carving the turkey while I finish up the mushrooms?

Relative 3: Of course!  (Starts sharpening knives with glee) I live for this.

Relative 2: You worry me.  (Counts the full pots, pans, and platters on or in tables, counters, stoves, ovens, broilers, toasters, and microwaves) Hold it – we’re missing one.  (Thinks for a few moments, then slams a hand down on a cutting board in realization) Mashed potatoes!

Relative 4: (Entering the kitchen with an empty appetizer tray to clean) Yeah, is anyone else concerned that cousin’s not here yet?

Relative 2: (Grabs an upright phone sitting on a charger and pounds the keys while grinding teeth) Not – enough – sides!

Relative 4: Just me then?  OK.  (Starts on the towering pile of dishes in the sink)

Relative 2: (Listens to the phone ring, then immediately speaks once the call is answered) WHERE ARE MY MASHED POTATOES?!

Relative 1: Uhhhh…. (Covered in potato flakes and watching a pot on the stove slowly but surely bubble up to overflowing) I think I might’ve misread the instructions….

Relative 2: What instructions?!  You bring them here and we reheat them, HOW CAN YOU MESS UP DOING NOTHING?!

Relative 1: (Stirring the pot faster and faster) Well, the store didn’t have that kind, so I had to get a box of dried-out potatoes instead, and milk, and butter, and they don’t even tell you what type, by the way: 1%?  2%?  Salted?  Unsalted?  And what type of salt, but I skipped that –

Relative 2: YOU COULD’VE BROUGHT THE BOX HERE AND I WOULD’VE MADE THEM!

Relative 1: (Stops stirring; the pot boils over) …You seemed busy.

Relative 2: (Bites on a wooden spoon, then speaks deathly low) Stop whatever you’re doing, get over here now, and bring the box with you.

Relative 1: (Tries using a lid to smother the overflowing pot) OK, I guess I can wrap it up so it doesn’t spill all over the car – traffic’s a nightmare right now though, so it’s probably gonna take me at least an hour –

Relative 2: I SAID GET OVER HERE NOW!  (Slams the phone down onto the charger, takes a breath, and sees Relative 3 hovering in mid-carve while staring at Relative 2) Who told you to stop?!

Relative 3: (Starts slicing again) On it!

Relative 2: (Enters the living room where most of the relatives are gathered, about half of them watching the football game) All right folks, I’ve got good news and bad news.  Good news is: dinner is almost ready.

Relatives: YAY!

Relative 2: Bad news is: there’ll be no mashed potatoes.

Relatives: ARGGGGHHHHH…. (Relative 5 stands up to leave)

Relative 2: (Points to Relative 5) Sit!

Relative 5: (Sits back on the couch, grumbling) But I only wanted to eat the mashed potatoes….

Relative 2: I know, everyone;, it’s a great loss, but we will strive to enjoy the turkey and the 23 other sides without it, I suppose.

Relative 4: (Leans into the living room from the growing pile in the kitchen sink) Wait a second, is the cousin who was supposed to bring it all right?  Did something happen?

Relative 2: Irrelevant to the meal!  (Spins on heel and returns to the kitchen, stopping short in front of the main stove) And now the gravy’s all lumpy, gaaaaaahhhhh!!!!

THANKSGIVING – DESSERT HOUR

 (Relative 1 enters Relative 2’s house carefully carrying a large package while everyone else sits at several tables of varying sizes eating pies, cakes, cookies, and candies)

Relative 1: (As everyone turns to the sound of the front door closing) Hi everybody, Happy Thanksgiving!

Relatives: (Waving) Hiiiiiiii!!!!  Happy Thanksgiving!

Relative 4: You made it!  Are you OK?

Relative 1: (As Relative 2 zooms over from the main table) Yeah, just a little mishap with the mashed potatoes, sorry you had to miss out on those this year.

Relatives: Nah – that’s OK – it’s fine –

Relative 5: It was not fine for me!

Relative 1: (Turns to Relative 2’s glare and holds out the package) So, I ran out to the store again today and managed to snag the last batch of freshly-baked cinnamon buns –

Relative 2: (Snatches the package out of Relative 1’s hands) All is forgiven.

Story 486: Easter Blizzard

Relative 1: (On the phone) You know it’s supposed to snow on Easter Sunday, right?  Really badly.

Host: (On the phone) I did hear that vile rumor, and I refuse to lend it any credence: unlike the rest of the world, including the Equator, our area’s had zippo snow this winter, and I absolutely reject buying into the circulating gossip that our one and only blizzard this go-round will arrive post-post-season in the middle of April!

Relative 1: Well, believe it or not; either way, nobody’s showing up at your house for dinner that day.

Host: I’ve got 15 pounds of ham here!  And all that charcuterie!

Relative 1: Maybe save it for Mother’s Day?

Host: You’re no help.

 EASTER SUNDAY

(Host wakes up suddenly, jumps out of bed, runs to the window, throws back the curtains, and takes in the winter wonderland continuously buried by sideways snowfall)

Host: Holy heavens – how is he supposed to rise in this?!

(Some time later, Host is awkwardly shoveling the driveway in a losing battle when the cell phone rings.  Flinging the shovel away and using teeth to tear off a glove, Host unzips several layers of coats to take the phone out of an inner pocket)

Host: (Screaming against the ice-ridden wind) HELLO?!

Relative 1: (Relaxing on an armchair with feet propped up on a cushioned stool in front of a roaring fire, and sipping hot tea) Don’t tell me you’re actually shoveling out your driveway for nonexistent guests.

Host: NOT EVERYONE CANCELLED!

Relative 1: Yeah, bet they’re the same ones who didn’t bother to tell you they were coming in the first place, either.

Host: …IT WAS ASSUMED THEY WERE!

Relative 1: Wait until the snow’s over to shovel it all out; just go back inside and enjoy your ham, `cause I know you cooked it anyway.

Host: IT WAS ALREADY DEFROSTING!

Relative 1: I hear ya.  Whelp, Happy Easter to you – don’t throw out your back.

Host: HAPPY EASTER TO YOU – (The wind almost blows the phone away; Host scrambles to get it back) TOOOOOO!!!!!

Relative 1: (As both end the call) Poor sap.  (Takes a nap)

(After finally realizing that the snow being shoveled is replaced immediately, Host re-enters the house, throws the coats, boots, gloves, and hats into the laundry room, slams the door, and enters the kitchen to check on the ham)

Host: (Opens the oven door) Roast, my lovely, roast.  (Hears the cell phone ringing inside the laundry room) Shoot.  (Slams shut the oven door and flings open the laundry room door to paw through the coats until the phone is found and answered) Hello?

Relative 2: Hey, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the fam and I aren’t going to make it there today.

Host: I figured.

Relative 2: Yeah, just can’t get going today for some reason.  Sorry also for calling so last-minute – everybody else is already there by now, I bet.

Host: (As the house shudders with a giant blast of wind) No, not really.

Relative 2: Ah, well, you always get a few cancellations at these get-togethers, that’s how it goes.  Happy Easter anyway, and Happy Spring!  (Ends the call)

Host: (Stares at the silent phone) Was that one calling from the Sun?!

(Later that afternoon, after ham dinner-for-one, Host lies on the couch while watching the wintry outdoors; the snowdrifts are now climbing up the windows)

Host: (Unwraps a chocolate bunny and bites off the head) My poor pansies.  (CHOMP) Poor birds.  (CHOMP)  Poor trees, poor grass, poor flowers, poor spring babies.  (CHOMP)  Poor ham, poor appetizers, poor desserts.  (Finishes the bunny and smacks lips in satisfaction) Ahhhh… at least one thing went right today.  (Looks again out the window, which is nearly a wall of white) Well, guess we’ll just have to look forward to a summer of 100°F for months on end to make up for this.