Why It's My Favorite Day of the Year

I hope you all are having a lovely holiday. Here it was exactly as I expected, only a little worse. I'm trying to be grateful it wasn't much worse.

Thanks to the bomb cyclone Katherine got stuck in Denver for 5-1/2 hours, but late on Christmas Eve afternoon her flight finally took off. Thousands didn't, so I am very grateful she didn't have to spend Christmas Day in an airport.

Meanwhile, I suggested to my guy that we leave an hour early because the airport was going to be a disaster area. He felt confident a half an hour early would be time enough (the man has no concept of time.) Turns out a disaster area would have been pleasant compared to Orlando International. We used all of our spare time stuck in traffic.

They closed all levels of the parking garage because it was full of people coming and going. We went in anyway, and circled all the full lots for what seemed like forever, but couldn't find a parking spot. Getting out of the garage was then impossible due to backed-up traffic of people trying to do the same thing.

I saw myself spending Christmas circling that parking lot, which actually would not be the worst Christmas I've spent.

Katherine's plane landed, and my guy needed to use the bathroom, and we're still circling the lots. We parked illegally in a spot between two signs that read "No parking between these signs," he dashed inside and promptly got lost in the terminal. Meanwhile, I sat behind the driver's wheel waiting to be ticketed or perhaps ordered out of the car so it could be towed. It's our new car, btw, and I have yet to drive it.

No one ticketed, towed or challenged me. Thank you, Santa.

At length my guy came back to the car, and tried to explain how he got lost. This is what old people do in a crisis. Halfway through listening to his story I told him to stay with the car, because Katherine texted to say she's getting off the plane now. I instructed my guy to tell the garage people I'd had a medical emergency, and ran inside the terminal to find a restroom because by now my bladder was about to burst, which really was an emergency. All the restrooms around me were closed.

I made it just in the nick of time, thanks to a lovely cleaning lady who kindly allowed me to use one of the toilets she'd just cleaned in a closed restroom. If I'd been carrying cash I would have given her all of my money. We just said "Merry Christmas" to each other, in the way two exhausted soldiers do before stepping onto the battlefield.

I came out of the bathroom and started toward the gate where Katherine was supposed to be. I could vaguely hear announcements but not clearly enough to know what they were announcing. I realize that 1) Orlando International has completely changed and I have no effing clue where to go, and 2) I'm so deaf I can't ask anyone for help because I won't hear them. I saw myself getting lost in the terminal, but I just followed what signs I saw.

Katherine appeared like a miracle halfway to me getting to her gate, and since she'd been travelling literally for 24 hours looked like an extra-exhausted soldier. She also hadn't eaten anything except a danish since leaving Hawaii. I hadn't eaten since lunch, and I could feel my blood sugar tanking. We hugged, and then I explained Dad and the car might not be there when we got to the parking garage.

Somehow my guy and the car were right where we illegally parked, with still no ticket (thank you, Santa) and we then got out of the parking garage. After spending another hour in airport traffic we started for home, looking for fast food restaurants where we could grab something in the drive-through so we all didn't faint from hunger. Everything closes early on Christmas Eve, btw, and it was close to ten pm.

I spotted a Denny's. Side note: I hate Denny's. It always feels like everything is covered in a light coating of oil at Denny's. This Denny's was in a rather rough side of town, too. So of course I said "Let's go to Denny's."

Okay. Imagine two old people and their exhausted daughter in a Denny's in the hood. It was crowded, understaffed, everyone looked hostile, and everything I touched felt like it was covered lightly in oil. I didn't care; it was par for the Christmas course. Our server came over, eyed us, and proceeded to do everything in her power to take care of us. We never had to ask for anything; she was constantly checking on us, and joked, and laughed with us. We all had breakfast, which actually was pretty good. We gave our server a big tip, and I'm writing a letter to the manager of that Denny's suggesting he give that young lady a hefty raise.

Christmas arrived while we were driving home. Once we finally got to the house I sent everyone to bed so I could finish my Christmas dinner prep. The turkey was defrosted (my gift to Katherine was making Thanksgiving dinner on Christmas Day. I never cook on Christmas) so I went to bed at 2:30 am thinking the disasters were over.

Nope.

My camera wouldn't focus on Christmas morning, so I have a bunch of blurry pictures of Katherine opening her presents. I made breakfast, and that turned out fine, which kept me in that "All is well now except for the camera" mode. I got the turkey stuffed and, although it was completely thawed, in the oven a half-hour early, just in case. I spent the rest of the morning and afternoon prepping and cooking.

Time to serve dinner. Although I'd left it in the oven an extra half-hour to roast, the turkey looked a little pale when we checked it, so I broiled it a bit. We took it out of the oven, and I checked it like I always do. The leg said "Done." Then, while I was finishing the last of the dishes, Katherine noticed some blood at the back of the turkey. I checked it and yep, the entire underside of the bird was still raw.

I've been making turkeys for forty years. I have never screwed up one in my life. I don't know if it was the oven, this particular bird, or just my bad Christmas luck, but the turkey was a bloody mess. I had to roast it not once but two more times before it finally cooked all the way through. My guy and Katherine were very kind about it, but that effectively ruined Christmas dinner.

The picture above is Christmas Day dessert; a raspberry cream trifle. That much I did not screw up, so I'm grateful for it.

I spent the rest of the night in pain from standing all day, thank you, arthritis, and exhausted from trying to get through the holiday. I kept saying to myself "Three more hours" and "Two-and-a-half more hours" etc. For some reason I decided to take a nap on my office couch, had a terrible nightmare and woke up weeping so hard I gave myself hiccups. My guy had fallen asleep on the couch, so we walked the dogs (who were crossing their legs at that point) at midnight. It was freezing outside, of course.

Finally I got the nerve to go to bed at 3:00 am. Finally, it was over for another year.

I owe you guys e-mails, which I shall write tomorrow. Today my guy and Katherine are going to Disney Springs with a friend of hers. I am going to work on my embroidery and do nothing else but eat thrice-roasted turkey sandwiches and feel grateful. Survived another one. :)