That Little Voice

A group of women friends have decided to meet at my house for our Christmas meal, and this will be a mixed bag of food and folks.

Most of these ladies are single, either from deaths, divorces or good sense, and very few of them are into cooking. We have debated back and forth and back again whether to order take out to have a true Yuletide dinner, or go a bit cheaper and have a pot luck, which means lots of salads, deviled eggs, wine, and bakery pies. You will notice no one is volunteering to roast a turkey or make dressing, so it appears to be a vegetarian feast.

My contributions will be paper plates, plastic utensils, ice tea, water, two dogs for begging, and Alexa playing Christmas tunes for us.

Aren’t you impressed? I may have to breakdown and cook some hotdogs and buy some bologna and cheese, for those folks who must have more than green leafy stuff and hardboiled eggs. But, we will see what sounds good on Christmas eve.

I plan to send out a list of items we may need, for instance I definitely would like either a pumpkin or pecan pie…preferably pumpkin. And someone could bring eggnog since I’m not a wine lover.

I might mention that a pot of pinto beans might be tasty, but not sure I trust any of these women to prepare food devoid of food poisoning ingredients. (accidently, of course). They do feel the same way about me, rightly so.

As is evident, this year’s feast and festivities won’t be like the good ol’ days with Grandmother’s candy and green beans mixed with mushroom soup and sprinkled with canned crispy potatoes. But as I mentioned last week, Christmas menus, people and places change through the years, and just aren’t the same as when I was 8.

And surprise, surprise, I’m looking forward to this quirky Christmas experience.