The Grinch who stole Christmas

I am not a fan of Christmas (if ever there was an understatement), so that's means I'm not big on Christmas gifts, I don't do Christmas decorations, I absolutely detest Christmas carols (well, except for that one Mariah Carey album), and it irks me (read: drives me nuts) that all the radio and television stations smother (read: torture) us with all these bloody Christmas songs and movies. Why?!

Keep calm all you over righteous persons who are aghast that I hate Christmas. We all know that Christmas is a pagan holiday. The idea that Jesus was born on December 25^th is just as ludicrous as Santa climbing down a chimney, unless by Jesus you mean the Sun god. R-e-l-a-x. My hatred of Christmas has nothing to do with Jesus' actual birth, so no, I won't burn in hell (not for this anyway, and that would matter only if I believed in a fiery hell). Say what?! Moving right along.

[Enter hubby: Cue song] It's the most wonderful time of the year!

No, I'm not just singing the song. Christmas is actually his favorite time of the year! Ugh! How then, you may ask, did he end up marrying "the Grinch who stole Christmas?" Aaah! My dears, in the words of the immortal Shakespeare:

…love is blind, and lovers cannot see

The pretty follies that themselves commit. The Merchant of Venice

But back to the story at hand.

You see, hubby is from a large (read: huge. ginormous) family. For him, Christmas means great company, togetherness, lots of gifts, Christmas corals and movies, and the best part? His mom's cooking. And what a great cook she is! She has established a Christmas tradition of preparing a wide variety of dishes for the entire family: ham, fish, chicken, mutton, shrimp, lobster, rice and peas, macaroni and cheese, salads, vegetables... and the best fruit cakes on the planet. Hands down!

My family? Not so big. My immediate family comprise of mommy and me. Even counting my extended family, our numbers still don’t stack up to hubby's! To top it off, most of the members of my already small family do not celebrate Christmas (my mom included). That means, growing up, the most exciting part of Christmas was that I didn’t have to buy gifts for anyone! (Yeah me!)

On Christmas Eve, more particularly, on grand market day in Brown’s Town, St Ann, my mom would cook for everyone (my mom is an excellent cook by the way, but our spread was not even close to hubby's mom getup). After stuffing our tummies, we’d all head into “Town” to splurge our allowances. Despite its great start, the day would usually end badly, because inevitably I would ignore my curfew, get home way later than expected, and then I would have to face the wrath of my mother (from which no baby Jesus would deliver me).

So unlike hubby, who perhaps even once believed in Santa Claus (I kid), for me Christmas is mostly unspectacular – just another day… until now. Why?

Well, for the years gone by, Christmas holidays meant I went home to hang with my mom who, like me, doesn't give two hoots about Christmas. Garfield's mom who lives abroad would take her yearly trip, continuing her tradition of a sumptuous family spread. While I lazed around with mom, hubby went by his sister and indulged with his family in their usual Christmas bliss.  Perfect arrangement, I dare say.

This year, all has gone awry. First, I'm no longer a happy-go-lucky student, and with work comes responsibility (who’d a’ thunk it). This means that since, this year, Christmas falls on a Wednesday and Boxing Day on a Thursday, yours truly will have to be back at work bright and early Friday morning (bummer). Then, as if the gods are against us, hubby's mom isn't coming this year! The horror!

But even a Grinch has a heart, so to make up for my lukewarm reception of Christmas – I mean, I have already rejected the idea of decorating my home (even as his sister called and gushed about her newly decorated tree), and my husband keeps lamenting that it doesn't feel like Christmas (meh!) – I decided to at least cook a proper Christmas meal. Now mind you, I'm nowhere near as good a cook as his mom, but my cooking is tasty. OK fine, it’s edible. Oh shut it! He won't die (at least I hope he won't).

Anyway, needless to say, I was pretty pleased with myself, and what I thought was my epic idea. Heck, we might even be able to begin our very own family tradition. So, bubbling with enthusiasm (and grinning like Cheshire puss) I began the conversation!

"Hon," I began in the sweetest voice, "I need to go shopping next week. I need to get fish and mutton and..."
"Why?" He asked, looking rather perplexed.
"W-e-l-l," I paused, "because it's the holidays, and I'm gonna cook." I was pretty darn pleased with myself, so of course I was still grinning.
He looked horror-struck, "You can cook mutton?"
Breathe Lecia, count 1.2.3.4… then slowly reply, "Y-e-s"
"But me never see you cook mutton yet?!" Now, he was even more aghast.
Why the face though?  "Are you saying I can't cook ---" The silly grin was frozen in place.
"No man, of course you can cook a wide variety of things, like chicken and fish (pause), and chicken (another pause), and you cook fish really well."
Sweet baby Jesus, I'm gonna kill this man! "So are you saying those are the only things I can cook?" When the roll is call up yonder. When the roll...
"No man, you can cook whole heap a things, like stew peas, and chicken and fish and chicken." (Blank stare).
(The urge to kill… slowly rising)
"Anyway mi gone library! Have to study!" And like Flash Gordon, he was gone through the door!

OK people, I admit, I am not Chef Roblé, but seriously! This fellow who calls himself my husband (strike one) clearly has no tact. Anyhow, I am not deterred, for come Christmas Day I shall prepare a feast and by God he shall partake!

Now, I'll just have to stock up on Pepto-Bismol… just in case. To all our doctor friends (you know yourselves), take note that you are on speed dial.

Michele, my dear sister-in-law, I think your Christmas tree is absolutely beautiful. P.S. If all goes to hell, we'll be coming by you for Christmas dinner.

Everyone else, wish me luck!

Stay tuned...