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a minute of manners and musings
my big fat southern christmas
December 30, 2010Posted by on
I have no pictures for this post. It wouldn’t be right.
I’ll just break down the critical elements for you.
Christmas Eve dinner with friends; Christmas morning brunch with in-laws that involved deep fried bacon; dinner that night with my family that involved Glorified Macaroni and Collards; after-church- lunch on Sunday in the Fellowship Hall that started with sweet tea (heavy on the sweet) and ended with Banana Pudding; barbeque and Brunswick Stew for dinner that night and that brings me to the Big part of this post: My Fanny.
Aside: nobody uses the word ‘fanny’ anymore. You can come up with your own list of substitutes, I’m sure. Any word on your list I can almost assure you was a forbidden word in our house growing up. Those words were too close to bathroom humor and that was forbidden territory in our house full of girls. That’s not how a lady talks or something like that. I’m the youngest of 3 girls and I married the youngest of 3 boys. You can imagine my surprise.
Fat: Covered that. Or, I’m trying to at least, but when your pants won’t button, it’s impossible to cover everything.
Southern: This is where it gets a little tricky. You see, at one point, I noticed that I was in a group of people where the number of females wearing camouflage outnumbered the number of males wearing camouflage. Sometimes the line blurs between what’s considered redneck and what’s considered southern. I can tell you this…one said female was wearing an add-a-bead necklace and a hair bow and it didn’t help the look of the bunch a’tall. ‘Course, it’s hard to think straight when the kids are outside shooting those guns like they do. This is usually very disturbing for out-of-towners, but they get used to it. We just keep giving them glasses of sweet tea. That way, they don’t know if it’s the saccharin or their nerves that makes them shake uncontrollably.
Christmas: Went to the Christmas Eve Candlelight Service where I was, again, glad my 9 year old didn’t burn the church down…I’m thinking by the time he starts coming home from college for Christmas, I won’t worry about this anymore and we can sit behind a lady with long hair without my having to ask her to lean slightly forward when the candles are lit; had a hard time staying awake for the midnight chore; slept with one eye open…can’t tell you why…just couldn’t sleep; packed gifts and food for first destination; exchanged; ate; drove back home; unpacked car; repacked car with gifts, food and overnight bags; drove; exchanged; ate; swore I would never eat an ounce of sugar again; ate a piece of caramel cake; went to bed mad and nauseated.
That just about covers it. Can you now see why I thought it best to leave the pictures out?
I dug deep for a lesson on etiquette to include in this post, but I just couldn’t find one that everyone would appreciate. Not all children must be taught, for example, to empty their pockets of amphibians and fowl before coming in to say the blessing…and, if you forget, just try not to stand beside Aunt Beth’s husband. He’s real sweet, but he’s from Chicago.