My mother-in-law’s best friend always made her a fruitcake for Christmas, which she’d freeze to serve at her church choir’s party the next December – except when we got married it was decided to serve it at our reception as the Groom’s cake. After 8 months in the freezer and 800 miles of August heat, it was rather dry, so my mother, my bride, and her sister Barb – all, shall we say, well over 98 pounds – went to our neighborhood liquor store for brandy to moisten it. After much searching they noticed a shelf of airline-sized bottles behind the counter and asked for one. “Just one?” The clerk asked these three hefty women. “Yeah,” Barb replied. “We’re having a party.”
Sparking memories of our first Thanksgiving together, at my folks’. Mom was calculating how many potatoes to mash in order to leave some to make pancakes from. “Cheryl [my sister] won’t eat many.” First thing out of Cheryl’s mouth at the table was “Oh, boy! Homemade mashed potatoes!” I blame my nephew. He was about 2 months in utero at the time.
We received a Christmas card that must have been meant for another Carlson family, but when I addressed an envelope to send it back (with compliments to their daughters for being involved in theater) I accidentally wrote our address at first.
My mother-in-law’s best friend always made her a fruitcake for Christmas, which she’d freeze to serve at her church choir’s party the next December – except when we got married it was decided to serve it at our reception as the Groom’s cake. After 8 months in the freezer and 800 miles of August heat, it was rather dry, so my mother, my bride, and her sister Barb – all, shall we say, well over 98 pounds – went to our neighborhood liquor store for brandy to moisten it. After much searching they noticed a shelf of airline-sized bottles behind the counter and asked for one. “Just one?” The clerk asked these three hefty women. “Yeah,” Barb replied. “We’re having a party.”