27 December 2006

Christmas Dinner

My lower back decided to go out before Christmas. I know, fun, right?

This is about as much fun as debating politics but with less POTUS hate and more pain killers involved. I will get my grove back but I'll be a slow mover for a while.

Hey, Mr. Roboto called and wants his parachute pants back.

Christmas dinner was fabulous. Aside from the odd fact that my Dad, sitting a mere two seats away, missed my step mom turning from gray to shades of dusky blue from lack of oxygen. She's okay, now.

A cherry tomato skin going down the wrong pipe. Everyone else noticed her peril, including my uncle who is a doctor

Most everyone at the table sprang into action. My uncle performed the Heimlich several times over while everyone looked on in shock. Mr. Coffee was poised ready bolt and take her to the ER. Grandma looked anxiously on. My aunt was out of her seat and running to the phone. The kids and my sisters, shocked, motionless, not knowing what to do.

And then there was my Dad, quite obliviously eating from his plate.

The stuffing could not have been that good. 29 years of marriage competing with stuffing? I don't think so.

I was really scared hearing my uncle telling his wife in his calm doctor voice to call 911 after a third and fourth attempt to dislodge the object. They must teach this exact calm tone in Medical School because I have rarely heard it used and when I do, it's solely by doctors.

I watch Scrubs and Grey's Anatomy.

It was only after my step mom dislodged it, and could breathe that we managed to be able to take our fingernails out of the dining room table. She even joked, "At least I didn't catch myself on fire!". That one was a couple years ago, also Christmas Day.

I had my laugh but I have to say in my Dad's defense, (love you Dad!) he told my sister later that he didn't know what was happening until well into the ordeal. I know he can't hear as well as he used to with the ringing in his ears.

So, it can be explained, but it paints one memorable Christmas dinner that turned out more Peg Bundy than Norman Rockwell.

I just have to get that stuffing recipe from my Aunt. It must be pretty darn good.

~Bee says pass the gravy

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"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."

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