Editorís note: This is an excerpt from ěLaura on Life: Wahoo for Dinner!î
There is a season for plumbers. Itís called the Holiday season. It never fails. I donít know if itís because of the increased number of guests that need to use your bathroom or that December is the time for all humans to shed hair. But whatever the reason, nearly every holiday season, I have trouble with my drains.
I love the Holiday season with all of its ups and downs, and I usually have a lot more ups than downs (especially with my drains). However, I could use a little help during this time of year since there are so many things that need to be done.
For example, I love to shop for gifts, but I donít like to wrap them. You canít give a naked gift, though. Itís just not done. So I need some help wrapping. Does Merry Maids do that?
I would love to buy a ěwow!î gift for each person on my list. The problem is that ěwow!î gifts are pricey and I never seem to have enough money to get exactly the right thing for everyone. Of course, I also want to put a little something in that red pot hanging next to the guy ringing the stupid bell. I figure if I pay him, heíll stop ringing the darn bell. Heís not bribable, though.
I love to eat Christmas cookies. The smell of anise and chocolate chip cookies brings back so many wonderful memories. But I burn at least 50 percent of everything I bake and that smell is not very nostalgic. Now, because of my incompetence, my kidsí memories will be that of burnt cookie dough. My great-great-grandchildren will probably burn a batch of cookies every year in memory of me.
Iím not exactly a creative cook either, but my turkey and stuffing usually come out moderately decent. What I wouldnít give for the skills of Julia Child, though. To be able to put on a spread that deserves a standing ovation is a long-term dream of mine. Instead, my cooking tends to result in loose fillings. Remember that popular holiday favorite: ěAll I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teethî? That kidís mother mustíve been a lousy cook, too.
One thing that annoys me is that I can never find a big enough turkey at the grocery store. I need a 24-pound turkey for our large family, but the largest I can find is 18 pounds. Do two 12-pound turkeys have the same amount of meat and stuffing capacity as a 24-pounder? This is something I should know by now.
The point is, I need certain things during the holidays that I donít usually need. The number one thing isÖ time; time to finish all the cleaning chores that we women obsess about. Your door knobs can have grape jelly on them all year long, but not during the holidays. As a result of all this cleaning, my hands are as dry as the Sahara in July. So I need lotion and rubber gloves.
Throughout all of this pre-holiday activity, I still need to type out my column, too. I could use a few typists just to do that. Of course, my computer needs to work for that, and it tends to break down just when I am the busiest. My husband is a technological wizard, but heís sometimes too busy fixing other peopleís computers to deal with my ělittle problems.î I need some little, tiny, on-call, elf-nerds living inside of my laptop. They can fix it when it glitches. Maybe Santa has a few of those lying around.
I need folding chairs, folding tables, folded napkins, and maybe even someone to fold the laundry. I wonder if the Wrapping Merry Maids would fold laundry too?
Most of all, I need sleep, which being as exhausted as I am would almost certainly be possible if my true love was not also a sleep-talker and a blanket-stealer.
When, on the twelfth day of Christmas, he ó my true love ó asks what I want for Christmas this year, Iíll tell him:
Twelve Plumbers plumbing
Eleven Typers? typing
Ten Lords a-sleeping (Iíll settle for just one)
Nine Ladies baking
Eight Maids a-wrapping
Seven Hundred Dollars
Six Teeth a-staying
Five Folding Things
Four Calling Nerds?
Three French chefs
Two Rubber Gloves
And a twenty-four pound turkey
If my true love will grant me these things for Christmas, I will never again ask him to fix my computer, wrap a present, or take a plunger to our toilet.
You can reach Laura at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com Or visit her website www.lauraonlife.com for more columns and info about her books.