No Christmas in Germany (23 Dezember)

My pants don’t fit, and we can’t get the lyrics right to any of the Steely Dan songs. Cooked onion hangs like phlegm from the lips of Eberhard, the seafood gumbo I made: we were so full from lunch, mom and I just sat there watching him eat it. My feet swell up from too much salty food and wine, and when I touch down first thing in the morning I can hardly feel the ground. Eberhard pushed the red on us he brought, but it looked like gas station wine so I only took a courtesy glass and then opened a different bottle. He said what, it’s not good enough? He’s cheap, doesn’t see the point in spending money on things you’re just going to swallow. Had my first ćevapčići today at the Croatian restaurant (pronounced tɕɛv̞ǎːpi), but there was a guy at the bar glaring at us the whole time and I was the only one who noticed. After, we went to Ellie’s restaurant and got the good Champagne: I said, Haben-Sie diese Champagne von der schwester stadt in Frankreich?, and somehow she understood, then went for it right away. The sister city in France is called Ay. Dawn and I walked up the road to the Saturday market to pick up our turkey (they come in clear plastic bags with flecks of blood still, just a label outside with the weight and price). I needed a pot big enough to brine it in so we drove to the hardware store looking for one of those all-purpose painter buckets but it wasn’t big enough still, so I got a storage tote, fixed the brining solution, set the bird inside the pot, nested it in the storage tote, and now it’s brining in mom’s gemüse area next to the barn, probably a safe enough temperature, <40F. Everything begins to slow down, now.

Categories: Memoir, prose, travel

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

20 replies

  1. ćevapčići — I can’t even pronounce it from the pronunciation key!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Damn I love me some Eberhard. Had me laughing out loud. The challenge to great writing is being truthful, isn’t it?

    Liked by 1 person

    • To life also right?! Happy Saturday to you Austin… your first Christmas at the homestead, is it?

      Liked by 1 person

      • That’s right, the first anniversary of the Great Christmas Squat of 2016, when Santa manifest, those were the days! Five of us bunkered down out here in one room. Everything in flux, and happier then ever. Now its pecan pies and stretching out on the new couch in a semi-not-dilapidated living room, toasting the comforts, but can’t help but have an itch for the adventure. Enjoying reading yours as I ruminate.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Gosh I love me some pecan pie, yum! Happy anniversary buddy! Joyeaux Noel! You having deer for dinner or what? I have to go dry the turkey soon so it can “air dry” over night.


  3. My turkey is straight to the oven, salted and stuffed, no muss. It’s simple but also lazy. I’d like to brine one sometime but wouldn’t know where to begin. I bet I’d get blowback from the family. “No! No changing allowed!”
    Stille nacht.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Life is too short to drink crap wine.
    Cheers, mate!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. here’s to fresh turkeys, good wine, and a slower pace –

    Liked by 1 person

  6. The turkey’s brining, the lamb’s marinating, the pickles all pickling snug in their jars, and time for all good elves to marinate in a bit of glog their own selves! Then we’re going to take turns saying ćevapčići

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Happy festivities, however they come, Bill – brined or wined. All best wishes to you and yours.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Ah those Steely Dan lyrics are tricky, but so funky and good when you get them. Happy Holidays Bill.

    Liked by 1 person

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