Tag Archives: Christmas dinner

I’m Dreaming of a Big Gay Christmas

The writing prompt this week is “The Best Gift You Could Give Me This Christmas,” courtesy of Deanna Dennis at A Long Run.  This one is easy peasy!  I don’t really have a list of presents that I am hoping for this year–I just want a Big Gay Christmas.

Big Gay is my stepmother.  My fairy stepmother, because she has a gift for spreading magic all around her and making it look easy.   Christmas Eve at their house is my favorite family event of the year.  We call her “Big Gay” because we have more than one Gay in the family–my sister is named Gay and our stepmother is, too.  And we grew up in Gay, Georgia for that matter.  So when Daddy married Gay, we had to distinguish–thus Big Gay and Little Gay.

Here are a few things that make a Big Gay Christmas the best day in my year:

1.  Big Gay puts great thought and effort into decorating.  It makes me feel special to be surrounded by that much beauty.  Even during the years when she worked retail and didn’t get home until 8pm on Christmas Eve, we still had a glowing tree, fresh garlands and coconut cakes.  She once told me, “There’s so much in life that you can’t control, it just makes sense to me to make things as lovely as possible when you can.”

The dining room tree, reflected in a silver bowl.

The dining room tree, reflected in a silver bowl.

Nana's tree

Nana’s tree is silver and gold.

2.  Big Gay gives gifts that are carefully chosen for each person.  And every gift is wrapped in gorgeous paper and ribbon with a handwritten and tied gift tag.  One year, she gave me a white terry bath robe “because writers need a good robe.”  There were plenty of years when our gifts came from the pawn shop, but they were just what we had asked for.  One year when the grandchildren were small and LOVED opening presents, Big Gay went to the dollar store and bought all five of them 20 presents each.  Every plastic soldier or bottle of bubbles was lovingly wrapped and ribboned, then piled up in the middle of the floor so the kids could sort through 100 presents!

I wrapped these, but I stole all the ribbons from Big Gay.

I wrapped these, but I stole all the ribbons from Big Gay.

3.  Everyone gets a place at the table.  This might require extra tables in the kitchen and out on the porch, but each guest will have a seat and a lovely plate full of good food.  Big Gay makes sure the kids have tiny forks that fit their hands and cups that they can hold.  Papa asks the blessing and cries.

The slowest eater in the family.

The slowest eater in the family, still working on her biscuit.

gay decor two

4.  Even though Big Gay’s house looks like a spread in House Beautiful, it’s home.  It’s comfortable.  You can take your shoes off and unbutton your pants after dinner.

Barefoot with my baybuh.

Barefoot with my baybuh.

This was the year I bought Vivi's tights at the consignment sale and the elastic died!

This was the year I bought Vivi’s tights at the consignment sale and the elastic died!

5.  At Nana and Papa’s house, the kids can be kids.  This is the best part of Big Gay Christmas to me–there is magic tucked in every corner.  Frosty leaves his hat lying around.  Jumping on the furniture is tolerated and soccer in the library is perfectly fine.  Santa calls to tell everyone it’s time for bed.  Elmo chills out with a smoke.  We laugh and we laugh and we laugh.

gay santa calls

Santa calls to make sure the kids are heading to bed.

gay tree two

Nana loses a few ornaments each year to tiny curiosity.

gay soccer

Soccer? Sure. Just keep your kicks low.

gay globes

It always snows on Christmas Eve…at least in the snow globes.

gay furniture

Jumping on the furniture is fine.

gay ginger

Gingerbread houses sprout here and there.

gay frosty

Frosty left his hat in the kitchen.

gay elmo smoke

Even Elmo gets to relax.

That’s the present I’m most excited about this year–Big Gay Christmas.  It’s fabulous.  

My writing group is pondering this theme today.  Check out other thoughts at A Long Run!

Cookin’ Fancy at KMart

yorkshire puddingThe other night, G needed my help to remember the word “ramekin” and it reminded me of this story of what can happen when you try to get all fancy at the KMart in Griffin, Georgia.  For you culinary Philistines out there, ramekins are those little casserole dishes that you use to make creme brulee, pots de cremes, or souffles.   Or if you’re like me, you use them to serve mustard, ketchup or chopped onions at your fancier wienie roasts.  

My dad is quite a good cook and he really pulls out the stops for Christmas Eve dinner.  He traditionally grills a beef tenderloin as long as his arm.  My sisters fight over the bloody part in the middle that’s still mooing quietly.  My brother-in-law and I claim the end pieces and our dignity.  We stuff our selves in a jolly style and toast our blessings.  

One year, Daddy decided to make individual Yorkshire puddings to accompany the tenderloin.  Now, making that many tiny Yorkshire puddings requires quite a few ramekins.  So one afternoon, Daddy headed over to the closest thing Griffin has to a Williams-Sonoma or Sur La Table….KMart.  

He had been wandering around the housewares section when he was approached by a friendly KMart employee.  As he described her, “She had her hair piled high up her head, her glasses on a little gold chain around her neck, and an imperious shelf of bosom.”  She asked if she could help him find something and he replied, “Yes!  I’m looking for some ramekins, and I need a bunch of them.” He held up his thumb and index finger in to a helpful circle to indicate their small size and general shape.  

At which point, the heretofore helpful KMart lady drew herself up in an indignant rage and snipped, “I believe you will find those in the PHARMACY!” before turning on her sensible heel and stomping off.    

Because apparently, she confused those little souffle dishes with these:  

ramses

We just had one big Yorkshire Pudding that year and sliced it up.