The world is back to normal, and everyone that doesn’t live here have gone home to theirs, where they’ll await for the next point of the agenda of this time of year. New Year’s Eve. But they won’t be doing that one here. For us, it’s party time.
The dogs always become so exited when Mark’s parents come over, and this time was not any different. Watson spent most of the holiday at Mark’s mother’s feet, begging for treats. He knows he won’t get any from us, so he found someone more susceptible to his most pitiful begging looks.
Now that both sets of parents have gone, Watson have spent a little while sniffing for them. But he couldn’t find them, and have now returned to normal. Which means jumping up the stairs on his stubby little legs to make noises outside the office door. I wouldn’t say he barks. Instead it’s a ‘rorwff’ on the quiet. Insistent-like, but measured. Not the tirade he reserves for the mailman.
Mark pulled off the family dinner with full marks. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten as much. Or at least not since last Christmas. We still had left-overs yesterday and the day before. I can now officially say, I don’t want any more Christmas food. Just normal things.
But Mark did make Christmas ham, and he did it proper. He bought ham, put it in brine for five days in the fridge, and then cooked it for eight hours on low heat, and then finished it off with a quick grilling. It was really good. Much better than the half-finished stuff they sell in the supermarkets in Sweden.
He also made an awful amount of Mince Pies, which i have eaten in large quantities these last few days because they’re muffin sized, and I can just stuff them in… On the negative side, he also made Christmas pudding. I didn’t eat that, as usual, but had to suffer the sight of the others tucking into it. Why? How on Earth can people eat that? I’ll never know.
Mark had an inch-thick folder with recipes and plans for this holiday, as is his habit for everything. Sometimes I am surprised that he doesn’t plan the exact feet-movement for the perfect efficiency in grocery shopping. It’s cute, in a way. Annoying, in another. Funny when you think back on it, but exasperating when he’s rushing about and try to stress me to do his elaborate plan too.
I don’t want to see another Mince Pie, slice of ham, ribs, or cookies for the rest of my life by now. And I have to look forward to the 3000 mile run I’ll have to do to get rid of all the calories I’ve stuffed into myself. Well, at least before the New Year when we eat more, and drink more, but at least that will be with friends and we can sweat on the dance floor because New Year will be a party night for us.
Time to behave like proper students, and not pretend home-sitters. Right? I only have three months left of being a teenager. Time to finally start to behave like one. I think I’ve failed so bad at being one that I must compensate during these last few wavering days of the teenage years. Don’t judge me.