Friday, December 26, 2014


"Has anyone seen the Christmas Cake?" I ask as I shove stuff around in the fridge.

Our youngest son and our grandson were playing a video football game, The Hubster was reading on the couch, eldest son and daughter-in-law were in another room watching a movie.

I waited a couple of minutes, looking in a few cupboards just in case someone hadn't realized it needed refrigeration, then asked again.

Youngest son suggested that perhaps oldest son had finished it off. I was just about to walk down the hallway to see if there was any left when I glanced at my spouse's face.

It was twisted in a grimace that could only be guilt or shame.

"Sweetie," I inquire as gently as possible, "Did you eat the rest of the cake?"

Sweetie's foot at the end of his left leg perched across his right knee began to flap furiously. He steadfastly stared at his book and remained mute.

"Steve!" I spoke more sharply. "Do you know what happened to the rest of the cake?"

"Yes!" he barked. "I ate it! I didn't get any last night!"

"We had brownie sundaes for dessert last night, Dear, not cake."

"Well, I didn't get any and I should be allowed to eat anything I want!" insisted He of imagined dessert deprivation.

"But Sweetheart, there were two big pieces, or four small pieces left!" proclaimeth I, growing aggravated. "We could have each had a piece as well as the two kids. I wish you could have checked with me before eating it. It was there when I put our dinner leftovers away a little while ago!"

"You told me three weeks ago that I talk too much and you didn't want to hear me speak again!" blurts Hubby.

My exasperation was growing.

"True, but that was in response to your third day of yabbering on and on about something that was done and over. I told you that we couldn't go back and change that situation, so we just had to live with it. It had nothing to do with the cake tonight!"

"Well, but you once said..." He seemed preparing to launch into other situations and excuses. 

I held up my hand to stop him. "Never mind. I'm going to bed."

I grabbed my phone and book, and I did exactly that.

With no excuses, lol.

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Holiday Angst

Mele Kalikimaka!

Yes, Merry Christmas from the shores of Oahu in Hawaii. This year's holiday giving is a trip for us, all of our kids and their families to this tropical paradise. No shopping, no wrapping. Simple.

This is a tough time of year for my Aspie Hubby. Christmas is full of rituals and traditions that seem silly or make no sense to him whatsoever. He resists gift giving. He says he should be able to give gifts just because he wants to, not because he is 'required' to.

Steve hates the decorating. He refuses to participate in any way, shape or form. If we have a tree decorated, lights up or stockings hung, you can be sure that it was done by moi.

I have to admit that The Hubster whole heartedly embraces the baking end of Christmas. He will devour every last cake, pie, cookie or candy that I make, or that we are given. Often in the middle of the night, so that when I get ready to head off for a get-together or party the next day not a morsel can be found. He is really good at quoting, generally in an abrupt, loud voice, "First come, first served!"

Yah, right.

With the exception of fruit cake. Thank you, dear Lord, for allowing me to be the sole lover of that tasty confection in our household. I have strived over the course of my adult life to share my passion of this holiday treat with my family members, as well as mince meat pie, but to no avail.

Long ago I realized that if I have absolutely no expectations for the holidays, I will never, ever be disappointed. I suppose that works for any situation over the year, for that matter.

I figured out years ago that I can alleviate much of Steve's holiday angst by purchasing my own gifts and checking with him a week or two before Christmas Day to see if he wants to wrap them himself. His preference is not consistent from year to year, nor from day to day for that matter.

I made the mistake of letting him 'do' my stocking for Santa the first year after we were married. Santa brought everyone else candy canes, chocolates, pocket games, cute little toys and gadgets, travel sized toiletries for an upcoming trip, and a personalized beanie baby peeking out of the top of each stocking.

Except for mine. My stocking had two mandarin oranges, a handful of almonds and walnuts in shells, and an ink pen. Black ink, of course.

My two oldest kidlets looked at me in horror.

Daughterlet burst out in tears. "Momma, you were NAUGHTY this year!" she wailed. Eldest sonlet hung his head in shame and refused to look at me the rest of the day. At the tender age of twelve, I can just imagine the 'naughty' connotations he was envisioning. I was rather embarrassed myself.

"What? What's wrong with that?" bellowed our Santa stand in, thoroughly perplexed. "Oranges and nuts are good for you!"

"Exactly Dear," I flung over my shoulder as I headed to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup and dry my tears.

I went off to calm Daughterlet, and then spent the day trying to figure out what I had done wrong to 'deserve' such treatment. As you may guess, Steve was utterly at a loss to figure out where he had 'gone wrong'. Fruit and nuts are healthy. A naughty person receives coal. He was certainly happy with his stocking, but refused to share a bit with me as by the time we were able to discuss the matter he had consumed every morsel.

He did give Daughterlet his beanie baby.

Santa has taken total responsibility for all stocking filling ever since, and everyone is happy, although I've heard from reliable sources that there has been some contemplation over the years to just put a few lumps of coal to someone's stocking, lol.