Well it's over. I have the flu and so does Mark. I also have a new Bible, several new Barbara Pym novels and more gloves than I know what to do with. Apparently all my friends feel sorry for me in this frozen country, and sent gloves.
We went back home last weekend for Mark's office Christmas party. The beginning of the end for me. I was not ready to go back so soon. We've only been gone two months. It snowed, and snowed, and snowed. We got stuck for four days. Mark made the reservations at a nice motel. Said it cost $55 per night. Some sort of special he got. Was very nice for $55/night. I was pleased. Well...turns out it was $109/night with the phone calls on top of that. We went to the party in a blizzard. Took great outfit to show off weight loss. Ended up wearing jeans and sweatshirt and boots. Was delighted to see friends. I began eating when we arrived and have not yet stopped. I have been eating out of control for two weeks. That d#*n trip. We made contact with everyone, and I cried, and I ate. We drove by our house. Not our house anymore. I cried some more and I ate. Mark started coming down with flu on Sunday. We finally slid back in here on Tuesday.
I did not unpack Christmas. Put little bare tree on the buffet next to box marked "puzzles." Tied red ribbon bows on it. Was kind of cute. Relatives cancelled at last minute. Was dreading them and heartbroken when they cancelled. Go figure. Since we were not having guests decided to do simple Christmas dinner. Still have not found pans so bought gorgeous enamel cast iron roaster to cook pot roast and veg. Also planned blueberry pie, Mark's favorite. Have located wedding crystal and silver, but no everyday dishes yet. Cleaned off dining room table and planned simple pot roast dinner on blue plastic plates with very nice utensils and glasses. Sounds fine right.
I got up Christmas morning with a raging headache and mean as a snake. Decided to make pie first and get it over with. Turned oven (not my own dear oven but some other woman's oven) on to 450 degrees to preheat. I put pie together. I opened oven door... and black smoke engulfed me. I then found out we had smoke detectors in every d##n room on the first floor. The high pitched cacophony scared the cats and they began to run around and yowl. You know I have been griping about how cold it is in this old house. Mark fixed the problem by putting plastic over all the windows. I now can't get any of the windows open without ripping down his hard work plasticing. Open the doors you say. Nay not able. No storm doors. The cats would escape. In my anger and panic I of course forgot to turn off the oven so the smoke continued to roil through the house. I got up on a chair and was attempting to turn off the smoke detector in the kitchen when Mark came tearing out of the bedroom. Flu ridden asthmatic Mark. He hit the wall of smoke and promptly went into an asthma attack. At this point I began to swear. Loudly. Nice Christian woman standing on a chair on Christmas morning clutching a broom yelling the 'f' word at the top of her lungs while her poor husband coughs his lungs out in front of her. The swearing did it. I came to myself. I hit the smoke detector with the broom and killed it. I got off the chair and drug Mark into the far bathroom. I ran back and turned off the stove. I ripped plastic off three windows and opened them. I took said broom and murdered three more smoke detectors. Peace.
I think the cats have recovered. Mark is weak and shaky but with fresh air and his inhaler we avoided an E.R. visit. He fixed three of the smoke detectors and will replace one. Just to finish out this Christmas story I will tell you I threw the pie in the trash and put the roast in the freezer. We went to the only convenience store open is this tiny town and bought dinner. We sat at our dining room table in our new home and had nuked frozen burritos and Snickers bars. We drank diet coke out of our wedding crystal. It was a great Christmas dinner.
In hindsight I should have cooked dinner on the lawn.