Some Disassembly Required…

So… Christmas Eve 2013. I’m at work; the building I work security in is emptying out slowly. My boss has taken her perogative, and I’ve been the stand-in manager all week; eerily familiar…

Schedules are written for the next two weeks out, payroll has been submitted… other than a broken car window and two people stuck in an elevator, nothing to investigate. No last- minute call-outs… yet… ( I was abducted by aliens, and they left me on I-80 in Nebraska, so I ‘ll never make it back in time...) and this one, which I  was actually expected to believe once ( my uncle fell off his motorcycle, and I have to take him to the emergency room ) or this one, my personal favorite ( my cousin is dying in Virginia, I have to get there before it’s too late) That one came complete with an obit notice from the Providence Journal. Very convincing, except for her bragging on Facebook that she wouldn’t miss the big party that weekend.

Well, it’s quiet so far. If I get out at 3 pm as scheduled, I have the huge Italian Christmas Eve Fish Thing to go to. It’s at my house this time, as it almost always is. Sandra has prepped for this for two weeks,  single-handedly committing to cook all the shrimp that came into the port of Galilee on 12/22/ 2013.

 Should I end up doing a double shift due to that pesky uncle again, and not be available to assist, then I might as well move to Nebraska my own self. Maybe the aliens will help me with that. I would rather that than face the Fury of an Italian Christmas Eve Fish Thing Chef Scorned. It is extraordinary, the things you can do with a wooden spoon.

Which all leads me to… the shrimp soup. It’s actually quite good, but a description of it usually frightens people badly. A long tradition of Sandra’s family, but no one quite seems to know where it ever came from.

Imagine a thin tomato broth, with celery, garlic ( of course )…with whole prunes floating in it ( think of them as giant raisins…) And tons of medium shrimp.

But the shrimp are tossed in whole, with shells and feet attached. ( Yes, I think feet is the correct word…)

So you really can’t eat it with a spoon. You ultimately have to reach in, pull the shrimp out, and disassemble them.

It becomes very messy. It should be served with individual tarpaulins with eye holes cut into them.

People either love it, or won’t go into the room when it’s being served.

Beyond the soup, there will be tons of baked stuffed, lobster mac and cheese, crab risotto, and many other water-borne creatures  represented that I am somewhat uncomfortable being in the presence of, living or dead.

Luckily, I am considered exempt from those, being an Irish in- law.

Well… it’s coming up on 12:00 noon, and no call-outs. Almost there…

I might just make it out of here on time. I have to get home and hose off my tarpaulin, it’s still a bit sticky from last year. And discretely remove all the wooden spoons.

And here’s wishing a memorable and merry Christmas to everyone and anyone who holds this holiday in high regard. It really is the best time of the year. And especially for all those in special need.

And isn’t that practically all of us?

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Published in: on December 24, 2013 at 12:16 pm  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. Ripping the feet off of something you are going to sit down to eat (out of a bowl, no less)? Eegads man, that is frightening! Sorry, buddy, but you are not going to convince anyone that prunes are giant raisins even if, essentially, they are.

    Hope you got out on time yesterday.

    Magic be with you today, Bud.


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