For the past few years, I’ve taken to Frail Deeds around this time to comment on how many Christmas parties I end up attending. While not exactly complaining, there were a lot. This year, not so much. I miss them. We didn’t host our own party this year and since I am no longer gainfully employed, those all went away as well. Luckily the local Latina Mafia came to the rescue over the weekend and had us over to their house for a Christmas party. The only one we’re going to/been invited to, this year. As my Favorite Panamanian and I refuse to do anything simple we also scheduled a trip up to NH to see my Favorite Son and his family and return last night at the height to the first winter storm of the season.
The
party was a lot of fun. It took place at a house near where we used to live in
Charlton and where we usually spend the 4th of July. It was surreal being
there in the winter and seeing no leaves on the abundant trees and pool, which usually
serves as the focal point for summer parties, all closed down. The key element
though, the people, were there as well as a veritable treasure trove of Christmas
cookies (I did say fun, right?). Since I was on my best behavior, having to
drive to NH later, I only had one beer. I think that shocked my host who
usually takes it as a point of honor to keep me well lubricated.
Chaos Incarnate
The Party Hosts at Far End of Table
It
was one of those raw winter days where you can almost smell the approaching
snow which made the gathering of friends in a warm house surrounded by the aforementioned
holiday confections all the more pleasant. We missed out of seeing our Czech friends
who were supposed to be there but admitted hey were operating on a “Panamanian timetable”
which meant they were so late arriving that we had already left. In a major surprise
to certain people married to my Favorite Panamanian, we actually left at the planned
time, despite the fifteen minutes (her not me, needless to say) required to say
goodbye to literally everyone.
Wife with a Full Plate
BRS Prepping of Holiday Baking
The
drive north to NH went well. We wanted to visit because we hadn’t seen BR3 in
more than a month since she decided to blow off Thanksgiving by getting sick.
The entire family realizes her potency when it comes to passing on afflictions
so she stayed home and we missed her. I say the ride was interesting because of
the gasoline situation. The GPS said we had 87 miles to go and the car said I had
enough fuel to drive 120 miles so I thought I was good. I proudly informed my Favorite
Panamanian of the same during her predictable concerns when the gas gauge reads
below three quarters full. 
BR3 Immersed in the Ball Tent
One of the Many BRS Costume Changes
My
theory started to evaporate along with my margin of error as we made our way
north. I will admit some speed limits may have been exceeded (alright they were
damn well shattered). At any rate I saw the two estimates of miles of travel
remaining and gas to drive them grow inexorably closer as we approach the NH
border. When they were within ten miles of each other my concern was reflected
in the rather sedate (and gas efficient) speed I was now traveling. My wife had
the good grace not gloat (too much). They finally converged as we pulled off
the highway. I was left wondering if we would have run out of gas before
getting to our destination. I have no problem not knowing the answer to that.
ABFA and her Ladies
BRS and Abuela on House Duty
We
were very excited to pull into the driveway and be greeted by the BRS and BR3.
I swear you could tell the difference in size from the last time we saw BR3 in
person. Her ability to carry on an actual conversation had also blossomed. She
is even more formidable than before. Scary thought. Our schedules had worked
out well since the ladies were busy all morning with ballet and other assorted activities.
The BRS immediately wanted to launch into a game of “Monster”. I’ll leave it to
your imagination who was cast in the title role.
BR3's Turn
We
tried to catch up with the ABFA and my son as the ladies swirled around as only
dedicated agents of chaos (all my granddaughters qualify) can. I’m so pleased
that walking into either my son’s or daughter’s houses feel like a little bit
of home. Another of life’s blessings that would easy to overlook. Riggins, the
family dog, has perfected the “I’m a so long-suffering victim” look and had his
best pathetic visage prepared for us. It has to be tough going from being the
number one attraction (prior to the girls’ arrivals) to a distant third. In an interesting
development, the BRS is now treating Riggins with very grown up petting sessions
which will endear her to him even more.
BR3 Correcting Abuela's Placement of Candy
We
suffered through some nonstop Blippi watching (BR3 requirement) before the
Monster game really took off. I’m a little embarrassed to admit those two had
me winded in very short order. It’s what granddaughters do. The girls let us sleep in until almost seven
am on Sunday when my Favorite Panamanian was roused to create her signature
hojaldras for two of her biggest fans. My son and I took a quick trip to the local
Best Buy to procure an item for a Panamanian uncle. I always feel better buying
technology with one of my kids along to advise, for the all too obvious reasons.
The ABFA had a planned girls’ day out with some of her friends so the granddaughters
had us outnumbered two of them to only three adults for the rest of Sunday. 
Favorite Son with his Ladies
My
Favorite Panamanian took one for the team when football time rolled around as
she engaged the granddaughters in Gingerbread House construction and
decorating. Almost as much candy went onto the house as into their mouths. BR3
claimed ahead of time she wanted to watch football with us to “see what what’s going
to happen”. I guess she lost that craving somewhere along the way. I truly
enjoyed watching the Red Zone with my son as we followed the fortunes of his fantasy
team up and down. We were also called upon to make referee calls of our own as
two very energetic young ladies vied for attention. A great afternoon.
Rare Quiet Time for These Two
Problematically,
afternoons always lead into evenings which meant out short visit was coming to
an end as we were planning on leaving as soon as the granddaughters hit the
rack. It was fun watching the practiced routines of my son preparing these two
high energy clients for bedtime. The ladies have taken a page out their aunt’s
(my daughter’s) playbook by becoming very quiet and non-intrusive when they realize
the appointed hour is approaching. As my son was putting BR3 to bed, the BRS
climbed into my lap and held hands with my wife. When my son came down a few
minutes later, he found the BRS sound asleep in that position with neither grandparent
wanting to move and break the magic.
The Way Our Son Found Us
We’d
been monitoring the weather all day long as that storm was predicted to roll in
Sunday night. Being a weather person in New England has to be tough so we
always take their predictions with a grain of the white stuff. Speaking of
white stuff, Worcester was supposed to only get a coating from this storm. We
headed into the night and soon found ourselves encapsulated in fairly vigorous
snow storm where there wasn’t supposed to be one. Our timing turned out to be good
as the earlier part of the storm had resulted in a bunch of accidents which had
been cleared by the time we hit the interstates which were in good shape. It
was still an intense drive home, especially when we got to Worcester and found
that predicted coat was pretty thick. We ended up with over three inches which meant
the drive up our hill was an adventure. Thank God for 4-wheel drive.
Deckzilla This Morning, Had to Shovel Lower Part
Since I have to move Contents of Garage There Later this Week
Meanwhile,
in New Jersey, the FBR had her own adventures. She was signed up for both a flu
and Covid booster shot on Saturday. I’m sure, based on her reaction to that
news, that she wasn’t involved in the decision matrix leading to that event.
She was smart enough though to parlay her acquiescence into a trip to a diner
boasting the best pancakes in the world. The FBR proclaimed the title was
earned after downing a stack that featured pancakes with M&Ms inside. The
girl knows how to negotiate.
FBR and Wingman at the Diner
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RECURRING CHARACTERS:
ABFA – Amazing Best Family
Athlete - my daughter
in law; BR3 – Blog Reader #3 – granddaughter
#3; BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel -
second granddaughter; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue
about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; Connecticut
Riverboat Captain – another close friend from high school, renowned sailor
of the big river; Curbside Girls – close
friends of my daughter acquired during him her single days in Brooklyn; Deckzilla – our backyard deck which
grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of
course); FBR - First Blog Reader -
first granddaughter; First Friday –
celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Keene
Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene,
NH; Kindergarten Friend – friend
since kindergarten whom I reunited with after many years; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife –
her US sisters, my wife is the 3rd Musquetera (musketeer); Namesake Nephew –
son of Great Aunt and Soxfather named after me; Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia
member; PanaGals – female relatives /friends
of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin
Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we
have lived & their spouses; PCR - Pittsburgh College Roommate– high
school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; PCR+1 - Pittsburgh College Roommate’s wife; Riggins - also known as the
Grandpuppy, son's dog; Soxfather -
my brother in law; Tia Loca – wife’s younger sister; Wingman – my son in law; Wingmom – Wingman’s mom, of course
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