Bruised, Cold, and Wet

Christmas Eve I spent with my dad, step mom, and step brother out at my Grandma's house. The roast was so overcooked, it was like chewing on a hockey puck covered in warm red wine. Which Grandma had made as a sauce to put over it, but had forgotten to boil the alcohol out of. And since I was first in getting the "sauce," I basically poured a whole bottle of this warm red wine on my steak puck. And was then properly inebriated the rest of the night and played an amazing game of pool.

On Christmas, I woke up in my old room. I didn't have pajamas at my dad's house, so was simply decked out in one of my dad's shirts. My dad isn't a huge guy, but wearing his shirts makes me feel like a very little kid again. I practically swim in them. The t-shirt sleeve is so long that it goes halfway down my forearm. The shirt was so long that it reached almost the top of my knee. It was totally ridiculous, but I loved it. It felt like Christmas now that I was running down the stairs in my dad's shirt like a really little kid.

Christmas began with coffee and Sharon making breakfast, then we opened presents. My dog, Dash, excitedly tore open his presents only to become scared of the oinking, silicon pig. I got several girly things like a sweater dress, earrings, nail polish, and very eighties sparkling eye make-up. It was almost ten thirty though, and had to get dressed. I still had to go to my mom's house, then my aunt's house. And Gina had also texted me to come by. I was a very busy lady.

So I ran upstairs, put on my Christmas Eve outfit of black butterfly lights, a short cream colored lacy skirt, a low cut scoop shirt, and tall black "sexy secretary" shoes. My dad shook his head at me.

"Don't wear that to your aunt's."

"I am not going to," I said with a laugh. "They will just tease me, and then tell me how I shouldn't be so rude as to dress up everyone I am related to." He patted my head, even though we were now the same height, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Have fun," he told me, as I scooped up my brother's present. Dad and Alex still weren't talking.

I climbed in the car and drove up the two blocks to Gina's house. I knocked, and was given hugs as everyone told me how nice I looked. I thanked them and Gina had me open my present. I knew she really listened to me when I bemoaned the fact I didn't have enough pictures at my new place. She had collected tons of pictures of us and framed them. It was a fabulous present, much better than sparkly eighties make-up. Though I do love sparkles.

I thanked her and hugged her goodbye because I really had to get to my mom's. I drove like a mad woman, mostly cause no one else was on the road, and I figured cops would be generous on Christmas Day.

I got to my mom's house in record time and called Alex up to help me with getting all "this crap" out of my car. He dutifully helped me out like a good little brother and even held the door open for me.

Mom and Adam gave me the "look" when they saw my very formal outfit.

"Don't worry, this is from last night."

Mom's eyes grew big. "You wore that to your grandmother's?" I looked down. Somehow my skirt had scooted up to mid-thigh during the drive. I pulled it down appropriately.

"I didn't mean to have it the short!" Mom continued to shake her head like I had literally lost my marbles. We handed out presents and I got even more practical things like coffee mugs and a blender. It was a good Christmas so far. 

When mom looked at the time, I told her I was gonna go jump in the shower and then put on a less dressy outfit, and had Alex carry my heavier presents over to my studio. He obliged and followed me over. I sent him away with a smile and a wave then jumped in the shower.

I had never showered so quickly in my life. I pulled on my new sweater dress and skinny jeans and practical flats, tied my hair in a side ponytail, then went back to my mom's house. Mom seemed to like my retro hairdo. We grabbed the presents for my aunt, uncle, and little cousin and headed outside.

That was when mom informed me the I was driving. I bit my lip, because I wanted to say no. But it was Christmas, and she was offering to fill my tank. I drove out to my aunt's, almost an hour drive when Adam takes us out there, but turned it into a forty minutes cruise. I may have been speeding almost the whole way.

Everyone greeted everyone, and we all waited to do food and presents. When it finally came time, I wasn't all that hungry, but ate. If I wouldn't have everyone would probably question if I was anorexic. Which I am not, because I eat almost all day long. That doesn't negate the fact that I am almost always force fed by aunts, grandmas and friends.

We finally got to opening presents. Grandma had made me this super awesome quilt with frilly things, and my aunt had gotten me two necklaces. One had my zodiac sign, Cancer, on it, which I really liked, but the other one had the chinese symbol for sheep. I was a monkey. I thanked Tracy, but deigned not to tell her she was wrong about the Chinese thing. I also chose not to tell my other grandparents that they spelled my name wrong every year.

While the visit wasn't particularly excruciating, I was glad to leave. It's not that I don't enjoy seeing my mom's side of the family, it's just that I don't ever have much to say unless my cousin Sabastian is there. We are less than a year apart, and are pretty much like twins. Since he wasn't there, I was just lounging in a chair and slowly falling asleep.

Mom made sure to let me have coffee before we left, and then we began the long drive home. Adam and mom fell asleep in the backseat, and Alex read a zombie book. That left me to my iPod and singing loudly and terribly off key.

When we got home, I went back to my place, and decided to see if Gina wanted to hang out again. She complained about how all her menfolk were wanting to hit her up. I suggested they all go ice skating with us at the outdoor ice rink in the park.

Amusingly enough, when she actually wanted to do something other than make out, they all turned her down except one. Bryan, who she had met during the summer through one of my friends from work, was all for it. He was apparently a lover of ice skating and had played hockey for several years. I was never a huge fan of Bryan, because he kind of acted like a douche bag, but I didn't care.

Gina and I got to the ice rink, and Gina bought the rental for me since I didn't have cash. We tied our skates on while the zamboni cleaned the ice off.

This is the point where I mention that I cannot ice skate. At all. I have been ice skating four times previous, and each time, I have seriously injured myself. The first time, I bruised my tail bone so bad, I couldn't sit down for a week. The second and third time left my hipbones bruised black and blue, and the fourth time, my knee was banged up so bad I couldn't straighten it out.

Needless to say, I was not the most excited person to get out on the ice. I wasn't scared, per say, but I was wary. Gina pulled me onto the ice and held my hand and carted me around. I basically didn't move and screamed like a baby every time someone brushed by me.

When Bryan showed up, drunk, he took it upon himself to train me.

I felt like a failure of epic proportions when I couldn't even get myself to move forward. I was flailing my arms about, trying my damnedest to swim through the air. At some point though, his lessons started to work.

There was the constant, "Bend your knees, lean forward, look up," but I was started to get the hang of the skates. I felt foolish that I was holding onto his hands for dear life, but I was finally learning.

I fell three times. The first time wasn't so bad, and I was able to get up with assistance, but mostly by myself. I was grinning like a loon, but I was actually enjoying myself. The second time hurt a little more, but I didn't feel it too much.

Third time, when I was on my second go around the rink with no assistance, I fell so hard, I thought I broke my ass. I was laughing my ass off, because no matter what I tried, I could not get up. It was like I had gone paraplegic. Bryan skated around me, like a pro, and just hauled me up by my armpits.

I was laughing so hard, I was crying. If I hadn't looked like a crazy person before, I was now. Because here I was, like a newborn colt trying to walk, and Gina and Bryan were skating gurus. But I was okay with that, because I was finally learning! I was so proud of myself. I made it around the rink twice! Twice!

Sure, I was cold, very bruised on my left side, and had tears and snot frozen onto my face, but, by golly, I was freaking skating, by myself!

And a big thanks goes to Gina's not boyfriend, Bryan. Who was ridiculously patient with me. Not only did he teach me how to skate a little bit, but he didn't make fun of all of my obvious panic. My jeans were soaked, I was freezing my ass off, and I was in serious need of ibuprofen, but I was just extremely thankful that somebody was finally helping me do things right.

I gave him the biggest hug and we shared several high fives. It was like suddenly he decided that I wasn't a bitchy badass anymore. I was just as dorky as I have always said I was.

There was a Christmas miracle after all.

The Stove

I decided that since I was finally all the way, (mostly) moved in, it was time to tackle the stove and oven.


I was sorely unprepared for the taste. What I initially thought was an easy task of switching out the little foil things, giving the coils and silver rims a good scrubbing, and then reassembling the oven became a monumental task of degreaser and scrubby sponge verses a centimeter or more of thick, black grease and grime.


In one corner, we had the yellow degreaser and two new sponges with the green scrubby sides. In the other corner, we had a harvest yellow stove from the 1950's that may have never have actually been cleaned in its whole existence.


Thankfully, Gina was actually with me on this adventure. She was more knowledgable about the cleaning. We went to work.


I soaked the greasy, grimy silver circles that held the coils up normally, and the bowls that must have originally been silver in color in a hot tub of water in the sink. Gina took a plastic butter knife and scraped chunks of grease out from the inside of the stove.


The disgust was written all over our faces as my trash can filled with solidified burnt grease. Gina threatened on several occasions to vomit.


Finally, I had to call my brother.


"Hey, Alex?" I said into the phone walking into the living room.


"Sista'!" I could hear him creaking in the computer chair.


"Could you do me a favor?" I asked, twirling the invisible cord like I used to do before cell phones.


"Maybe..." This was how all our deals were made. There was a mutual understanding that if I did something for him, I would require some form of payment. If he did something for me, I had to pay him back somehow.


"Trust me," I said, still twirling that invisible cord, "It'll be worth it!" I was sure he could hear the manic smile.


"What do you want?"


"Could you bring over the vacuum cleaner with the hose attachments, and the foil bowl things you put in the stove top. Ask Adam what they are, and he can tell you where to find them."


"Can I ask why you need the vacuum cleaner? I thought you just bought one." I could hear him sighing as he got up to do my bidding.


"Well, I am cleaning my stove, and I need to vacuum it." It seemed logical to me.


"You are one strange bird, sister."


"Thank you, brother!" I hung up. He was going to understand what I need the vacuum for soon enough.


I opened the front door so he could come in, then went back to work cleaning the things that I had left to soak in the sink. Gina and I worked in silence, except for little "ughs" and "eww!" I heard my brother's familiar heavy breathing as he swung open the screen door. He had the vacuum and the aluminum bowl things I needed.


"Now tell me why you need this vacuum." I motioned with a pointed finger under the left front coil.


"Look under the coil." He did.


"Yuck! What is all that?" That was burnt peanut shells, a Swedish fish wrapper, pools of grease, and other crunched up burnt foods.


"That is why we need the vacuum cleaner with the hose," Gina explained, scraping another swatch of grease out from under another coil.


"I can see that. Imma let you guys take care of that. Call me when you're done." He left, running barefoot out by the woods to mom's house. I hooked up the vacuum cleaner and started sucking all the crap out from the stove top. When that was finished, Gina scrubbed all the crap out of there too, and we were finally ready to start using the sponges.


I flipped mine over to the green side and got to work. After my sponge got stuck in the grease four times, no matter how much degreaser I convinced it to soak up, the green scrubs began to tear off and were stuck under the stove.


"Shit," I cursed, looking closely at the state of my sponge. It was shredded and pulled bare, like it was ten years old and not fresh out of the package. Gina had a similar result.


Annoyed, I attacked the stove with a vengeance, scrapping and swiping up the grease. It started to look cleaner, little by little. After two hours of straight cleaning, Gina and I gave into our grumbling, angry tummies.


"Fine!" I yelled at my stomach, looking at it with disdain. Why wasn't life like the Sims? Instead of eating, I could just cheat my moodlets away! But life wasn't like the Sims, so I made the executive decision to feed both Gina and me.


We reconstructed the stove, drained the sink and began washing our hands. I started freaking out when the grease would just not come off my hands. After several washes, I was clean enough to do surgery with my bare hands.


I called Alex up again and asked him to take the vacuum back. He said he would be over in a minute, so I fetched his present out of the freezer. He swung my screen door open again and the familiar labored breathing was there.


"Here," I said, handing him a quarter pound of dark chocolate fudge. "I bought this in Michigan for you."


"Holy shit!" He inspected the fudge, then dropped it in his pocket. I always wondered why guys got to have pockets that were practically a foot deep, and girls only had pocket that could barely fit a roll of quarters.


"Just for you," I said, rolling the vacuum over to him. He scooped it up under his arm like a lumberjack and tipped an imaginary hat at us.


"Good day, ladies," he said, using his english voice and getting that goofy, semi-creepy face that looked like the cat had definitely caught the mouse.


He left, and again I found myself wondering what giant gene had grown him.


While I made dinner, Gina made the bed. (A slightly annoying habit of hers.) I pointed out that it was just going to get unmade in "like an hour." She shrugged.


"Hey, can you not spoon me tonight?"


"I didn't spoon you last night."


"Incorrect!" I pointed my wooden spoon at her. "You kept grabbing me and like the freaking Hulk, you would drag me across the bed and spoon me."


"No way!" She shook her head. "I definitely did not do that!"


"You did! But it's not like it was really all that bad," I shrugged.


"Why not?" She raised an eyebrow.


"Well, you were wearing pants, at least."


"Yes, at least I was wearing pants!"