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R. Linda:
New Year's Eve in me house was never any big deal. We usually kicked back and had a few beers while watching the telly. Me Mam would make some boiled potatoes and parsnips, serve up a bit of calves tongue with mustard slathered on homemade brown bread, and Bob's your uncle! Occasionally if either me or me Da were up to it, around the midnight hour one of us would get the bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey. We'd pour a shot, slug it back, and bang down our Murphy's with a shout of happy new year at each other and that would be it.
Me Mam, on the other hand, would jump up, go ring the doorbell in the front (if it was in working order, most times it wasn't and she'd throw out her arm and knock), open the door wide, shout happy new year to anyone listening and then run for the backdoor, fling that open and say, "Out with you damn spirits of old!" slam the door shut and then run to the open front door and gesture like there was someone there and say, "Welcome new year!" and then she'd close the door softly, and sit down with us like she never left her place at table in the first place.
This aberrant behaviour has existed in me house for more years than I can remember. Not me Da nor I, have ever questioned me Mam's strange behaviour on that night. We always looked at each other with raised brows and tried to ignore her, and when she came back and plunked herself down, we let our brows go back to where they were normally, and never a word be exchanged.
I know what you are thinking we are indeed a crazy family, but that is the way it has been. We never had much money to have a big celebration and we got into the habit somewhere of watching the new year rung in through the BBC channel and not much else. Of course, in later years we switched over to our own Belfast station to see the hordes of Proddys and Catholics making nice for the camera. You had to know that when the cameras were shut off they were probably hurling bottles and insults at each other.
Within the safety of me home, we tended to do our own thing and I fully intended to do the same of sitting in front of me telly watching Regis or whoever leds in the new year, me drinking a Murphy's and Tonya a Baileys, but it didn't go that way. No indeed it did not.
On returning the day before New Year's Eve from the land of snow and more hot chocolate than I ever want to see again, Tonya and I parted for our respective abodes. I had only just unpacked when I got that rap, patta, rap-rap signalling Argie is knowing we be back. I didn't want to open me door, but knowing she'd be out there pounding on the blasted door if I didn't pull meself together to answer it; I sighed resigned to it and opened the door to me Cyndi Lauper look-alike neighbour dressed in a pink elf outfit, complete with curled toed shoes that had tiny bells attached to the ends. Stunned, I stood there too amazed to speak, nor stop her and the pig dog from entering me abode.
To make a long deranged conversation short, the gist of it was that she'd been to Tonya's apartment and informed her that for New Year's Eve the entire apartment was going to stay "in" because the city police had decided anyone caught driving under the influence would be hauled off to the nick for three years. I had not heard this and wondered when this new law came into effect, but someone had convinced everyone in our building of "believers in anything that has to do with green lights and aliens" (more on that another time), that this law was going into effect on New Year's Eve.
So, the end result of this massive apartment stay-in (yes, a hippy term), was to have a giant in-house party. Everyone was bringing some edible to the large room in the basement where we held our building meetings. Would I bring the angel food cake, enough for 40 or so people Argie asked. Where was I to pick up angel food cake for 40 with such short notice was left to me no matter how much I protested, and I did protest on deaf elf ears.
I wanted to know why so much cake and she told me the idea was to have an ongoing fondue party. Now we can blame me for this because a friend of mine celebrated with such and I mentioned it to Alison who wanted to have a small party this year and well, Argie took this idea over for a whole building fondue. Me head aches like the dickens at the thought of this.
The plan was, they'd start with a massive cheese and white wine fondue where you dip chunks of French bread in and you sip a glass of Chardonnay or some white wine. Then they were going onto shrimp, dipped in cocktail sauce with a rose' wine. Following that was chicken and beef with an assortment of veggies on sticks that you throw into a large Fry Daddy (actually there were five Fry Daddys), and then there would be an assortment of sauces and such, and you would fill up on that with a red wine accompaniment (Bulls Blood I do believe it was, but I be so blurry by that time I don't remember). And to top off the evening at eleven, a giant pot of melted chocolate with heavy cream would be put to the centre of the room and there would be an assortment of fresh fruit and yes, angel food cake cut up in bits to be dipped in the chocolate as one sipped champagne and welcomed in the new year.
For sure it sounds wonderful, but you try finding enough angel food cake to feed a city block and then have to measure into small bits that can be speared on the end of a fondue fork. Not easy I can tell you, but I did it! I be cross-eyed still from cutting so much spongy cake, also not easy to do. AND, to add insult to injury, I could not find angel food cake to save me sad life. I ended up BAKING (not a pretty picture) about twenty boxes of the stuff. A lot of cursing and throwing of pans by yours truly until Tonya saved me arse by mixing them all up right. Ok I lost two cakes to her half dozen, but at least I gave it a go, which is more than I can say of me downstairs neighbour.
This is where it gets interesting. Argie was told by Alison to supply the chocolate chips for the chocolate fondue, not a hard task by any means. Ten big bags of chocolate bits from the supply house down the street and she should be in business.
Everyone was geared up for this massive fondue party it seemed, and their taste buds were wetted especially for the piece d' resistance -- the chocolate fondue. They talked about it all night long and when it got to be time for the great melting of the chocolate, the fresh and sparkling fruits were arranged, me angel food cake for 40 odd people was placed on the tables, and people eagerly craned necks to see what the choices were and so on.
Alison came running up to Argie who had been standing glued next to me as she had the entire evening, and asked her where the chocolate chips were. Argie hustled off with her to the back of the room and reached into her large shopping bag and handed her . . . hands her . . . I can't near bring meself to say it, hands her . . . hands her a huge bag of chocolate chip . . . begorrah me . . . cookies!
Alison was near pulling her hair out when she grabbed Argie instead of the cookies and started shaking her. "How stupid can you be? I SAID chocolate CHIPS not cookies! I even asked you if you had the chocolate chips and you said, yes!"
Several of us ran over to stop her before Argie became a bald person, and with much force we pulled Ali off Argie.
"You take these bags of COOKIES and you break each of them up and separate those chips!" Alison hissed with such force we all got sprayed.
Argie did not cry, nor did she whimper, she did not say sorry either, and she did not blink. It was like watching a slow thunder cloud build. I could feel the ground trembling in anticipation of an Argiebelle eruption. Unfortunately, Tonya and I are the only two people in the building that know dead brained Argie that well, we can ascertain when she is going to lose it, and there isn't much to lose let me say that much.
With a quick mindedness that surprised me (because Tonya was near three sheets to the sailways), she pushed Argie into me chest spilling me champagne all over Argie's head and me shirt front, then she grabbed Alison in one fell swoop and off they went. Argie looked up from me soggy shirt and said (eyes squinted in that Cyndi Lauper way of hers), "Gee, thanks Gabe."
Huh? Wasn't me that bought the wrong chocolate chips. Gobsmacked, I stood there as she slunk off silently pointing an accusing finger at ME! At me, can you imagine? Everyone looked at me like it was me fault there was no chocolate fondue. I want to tell you right now, if I could have got away with murder, well by-crackey I'd have done her in right there with a fondue fork. As it was, the room started to slowly turn toward me as I began backing up, sputtering to a crowd of drunken fondue forked fruit and angel cake wielding people, that it wasn't me fault.
Flanagan (who had mysteriously appeared), started laughing and by that time Argie had exited the room. That got everyone into fits of drunken laughter, and me saved from being torn apart piece by bloody piece by an angry crowd of drunken and chocolate deprived partygoers. It was surreal I tell you! Tonya arrived with four bags of chocolate chip morsels and a few others had peanut butter chips, so they melted at least eight small bags of chocolate and peanut bits so it wasn't a total loss, but nowhere did it satisfy 40 some party people. Yours truly had none because there was none to be had by the time it would have been me turn. That was all right with me, I was still wondering how I got the blame for the cookie fiasco.
New Year's Day I took a box of holiday crackers (not the edible ones, the ones you pull the tab and get a pop out of), to Argie's. No one had seen her and we did say we hoped she wasn't suicidal (Alison said she didn't care if she was), and I made it me duty to check up on the pixie. I expected big red puffy eyes and weepy behaviour, but when the door opened there was Ms. Argie dressed in black leather with studs and chains hanging off her person, black lipstick, big black raccoon eyes, black lacquered fingernails, and pink and green hair. I could say nothing such was me amazement.
Even pig dog had two large circles painted on both eyes like the Target dog, only black ones. Before me dumbstruckness could leave me she pulled me in shutting the door behind me.
"Whadda ya want Gabe? Come to gloat did ya?"
"Well no, I came to see how you were getting along and by the looks of things, I see everything be fit as a fiddler's crotch and I'll be leaving you this (handed over the box of crackers), and be on me way."
She must of been touched and I don't mean the usual touched in the head, but the emotional touched because she asked me if I'd like to stay and have some chocolate chip cookies (well, begorrah me she had at least ten large bags of them). Trying not to laugh, I decided it was the neighbourly thing to do, so I said I would. I sat meself at her breakfast nook as she broke out the cookies, and I was enjoying munching on one particularly chocked full of chips when she did the unthinkable. Yes, R. Linda, there it was in front of me a huge cup of HOT CHOCOLATE piled high with whipped cream and a candy cane stuck in for good measure. The very beverage I swore I'd never drink again (sigh). Methinks me new year is going to be not so good.
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
New Year's Eve in me house was never any big deal. We usually kicked back and had a few beers while watching the telly. Me Mam would make some boiled potatoes and parsnips, serve up a bit of calves tongue with mustard slathered on homemade brown bread, and Bob's your uncle! Occasionally if either me or me Da were up to it, around the midnight hour one of us would get the bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey. We'd pour a shot, slug it back, and bang down our Murphy's with a shout of happy new year at each other and that would be it.
Me Mam, on the other hand, would jump up, go ring the doorbell in the front (if it was in working order, most times it wasn't and she'd throw out her arm and knock), open the door wide, shout happy new year to anyone listening and then run for the backdoor, fling that open and say, "Out with you damn spirits of old!" slam the door shut and then run to the open front door and gesture like there was someone there and say, "Welcome new year!" and then she'd close the door softly, and sit down with us like she never left her place at table in the first place.
This aberrant behaviour has existed in me house for more years than I can remember. Not me Da nor I, have ever questioned me Mam's strange behaviour on that night. We always looked at each other with raised brows and tried to ignore her, and when she came back and plunked herself down, we let our brows go back to where they were normally, and never a word be exchanged.
I know what you are thinking we are indeed a crazy family, but that is the way it has been. We never had much money to have a big celebration and we got into the habit somewhere of watching the new year rung in through the BBC channel and not much else. Of course, in later years we switched over to our own Belfast station to see the hordes of Proddys and Catholics making nice for the camera. You had to know that when the cameras were shut off they were probably hurling bottles and insults at each other.
Within the safety of me home, we tended to do our own thing and I fully intended to do the same of sitting in front of me telly watching Regis or whoever leds in the new year, me drinking a Murphy's and Tonya a Baileys, but it didn't go that way. No indeed it did not.
On returning the day before New Year's Eve from the land of snow and more hot chocolate than I ever want to see again, Tonya and I parted for our respective abodes. I had only just unpacked when I got that rap, patta, rap-rap signalling Argie is knowing we be back. I didn't want to open me door, but knowing she'd be out there pounding on the blasted door if I didn't pull meself together to answer it; I sighed resigned to it and opened the door to me Cyndi Lauper look-alike neighbour dressed in a pink elf outfit, complete with curled toed shoes that had tiny bells attached to the ends. Stunned, I stood there too amazed to speak, nor stop her and the pig dog from entering me abode.
To make a long deranged conversation short, the gist of it was that she'd been to Tonya's apartment and informed her that for New Year's Eve the entire apartment was going to stay "in" because the city police had decided anyone caught driving under the influence would be hauled off to the nick for three years. I had not heard this and wondered when this new law came into effect, but someone had convinced everyone in our building of "believers in anything that has to do with green lights and aliens" (more on that another time), that this law was going into effect on New Year's Eve.
So, the end result of this massive apartment stay-in (yes, a hippy term), was to have a giant in-house party. Everyone was bringing some edible to the large room in the basement where we held our building meetings. Would I bring the angel food cake, enough for 40 or so people Argie asked. Where was I to pick up angel food cake for 40 with such short notice was left to me no matter how much I protested, and I did protest on deaf elf ears.
I wanted to know why so much cake and she told me the idea was to have an ongoing fondue party. Now we can blame me for this because a friend of mine celebrated with such and I mentioned it to Alison who wanted to have a small party this year and well, Argie took this idea over for a whole building fondue. Me head aches like the dickens at the thought of this.
The plan was, they'd start with a massive cheese and white wine fondue where you dip chunks of French bread in and you sip a glass of Chardonnay or some white wine. Then they were going onto shrimp, dipped in cocktail sauce with a rose' wine. Following that was chicken and beef with an assortment of veggies on sticks that you throw into a large Fry Daddy (actually there were five Fry Daddys), and then there would be an assortment of sauces and such, and you would fill up on that with a red wine accompaniment (Bulls Blood I do believe it was, but I be so blurry by that time I don't remember). And to top off the evening at eleven, a giant pot of melted chocolate with heavy cream would be put to the centre of the room and there would be an assortment of fresh fruit and yes, angel food cake cut up in bits to be dipped in the chocolate as one sipped champagne and welcomed in the new year.
For sure it sounds wonderful, but you try finding enough angel food cake to feed a city block and then have to measure into small bits that can be speared on the end of a fondue fork. Not easy I can tell you, but I did it! I be cross-eyed still from cutting so much spongy cake, also not easy to do. AND, to add insult to injury, I could not find angel food cake to save me sad life. I ended up BAKING (not a pretty picture) about twenty boxes of the stuff. A lot of cursing and throwing of pans by yours truly until Tonya saved me arse by mixing them all up right. Ok I lost two cakes to her half dozen, but at least I gave it a go, which is more than I can say of me downstairs neighbour.
This is where it gets interesting. Argie was told by Alison to supply the chocolate chips for the chocolate fondue, not a hard task by any means. Ten big bags of chocolate bits from the supply house down the street and she should be in business.
Everyone was geared up for this massive fondue party it seemed, and their taste buds were wetted especially for the piece d' resistance -- the chocolate fondue. They talked about it all night long and when it got to be time for the great melting of the chocolate, the fresh and sparkling fruits were arranged, me angel food cake for 40 odd people was placed on the tables, and people eagerly craned necks to see what the choices were and so on.
Alison came running up to Argie who had been standing glued next to me as she had the entire evening, and asked her where the chocolate chips were. Argie hustled off with her to the back of the room and reached into her large shopping bag and handed her . . . hands her . . . I can't near bring meself to say it, hands her . . . hands her a huge bag of chocolate chip . . . begorrah me . . . cookies!
Alison was near pulling her hair out when she grabbed Argie instead of the cookies and started shaking her. "How stupid can you be? I SAID chocolate CHIPS not cookies! I even asked you if you had the chocolate chips and you said, yes!"
Several of us ran over to stop her before Argie became a bald person, and with much force we pulled Ali off Argie.
"You take these bags of COOKIES and you break each of them up and separate those chips!" Alison hissed with such force we all got sprayed.
Argie did not cry, nor did she whimper, she did not say sorry either, and she did not blink. It was like watching a slow thunder cloud build. I could feel the ground trembling in anticipation of an Argiebelle eruption. Unfortunately, Tonya and I are the only two people in the building that know dead brained Argie that well, we can ascertain when she is going to lose it, and there isn't much to lose let me say that much.
With a quick mindedness that surprised me (because Tonya was near three sheets to the sailways), she pushed Argie into me chest spilling me champagne all over Argie's head and me shirt front, then she grabbed Alison in one fell swoop and off they went. Argie looked up from me soggy shirt and said (eyes squinted in that Cyndi Lauper way of hers), "Gee, thanks Gabe."
Huh? Wasn't me that bought the wrong chocolate chips. Gobsmacked, I stood there as she slunk off silently pointing an accusing finger at ME! At me, can you imagine? Everyone looked at me like it was me fault there was no chocolate fondue. I want to tell you right now, if I could have got away with murder, well by-crackey I'd have done her in right there with a fondue fork. As it was, the room started to slowly turn toward me as I began backing up, sputtering to a crowd of drunken fondue forked fruit and angel cake wielding people, that it wasn't me fault.
Flanagan (who had mysteriously appeared), started laughing and by that time Argie had exited the room. That got everyone into fits of drunken laughter, and me saved from being torn apart piece by bloody piece by an angry crowd of drunken and chocolate deprived partygoers. It was surreal I tell you! Tonya arrived with four bags of chocolate chip morsels and a few others had peanut butter chips, so they melted at least eight small bags of chocolate and peanut bits so it wasn't a total loss, but nowhere did it satisfy 40 some party people. Yours truly had none because there was none to be had by the time it would have been me turn. That was all right with me, I was still wondering how I got the blame for the cookie fiasco.
New Year's Day I took a box of holiday crackers (not the edible ones, the ones you pull the tab and get a pop out of), to Argie's. No one had seen her and we did say we hoped she wasn't suicidal (Alison said she didn't care if she was), and I made it me duty to check up on the pixie. I expected big red puffy eyes and weepy behaviour, but when the door opened there was Ms. Argie dressed in black leather with studs and chains hanging off her person, black lipstick, big black raccoon eyes, black lacquered fingernails, and pink and green hair. I could say nothing such was me amazement.
Even pig dog had two large circles painted on both eyes like the Target dog, only black ones. Before me dumbstruckness could leave me she pulled me in shutting the door behind me.
"Whadda ya want Gabe? Come to gloat did ya?"
"Well no, I came to see how you were getting along and by the looks of things, I see everything be fit as a fiddler's crotch and I'll be leaving you this (handed over the box of crackers), and be on me way."
She must of been touched and I don't mean the usual touched in the head, but the emotional touched because she asked me if I'd like to stay and have some chocolate chip cookies (well, begorrah me she had at least ten large bags of them). Trying not to laugh, I decided it was the neighbourly thing to do, so I said I would. I sat meself at her breakfast nook as she broke out the cookies, and I was enjoying munching on one particularly chocked full of chips when she did the unthinkable. Yes, R. Linda, there it was in front of me a huge cup of HOT CHOCOLATE piled high with whipped cream and a candy cane stuck in for good measure. The very beverage I swore I'd never drink again (sigh). Methinks me new year is going to be not so good.
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
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