HOME

PHOTOS &
CURRENT COLUMNS

FANS' FAVORITE FIVE

COLUMNS BY
SUBJECT

www.livingthelifeofholly.com
Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
Before Santa Comes

“We’re not in America.” Cool-guy said.

I laughed.

“You’re making these Indian samosas look like little Susie-homemaker treats. That’s not what we want.”

Kate froze. “How should I do it?”

“Just push the edges of the pastry down with your fingers. Indian food is supposed to look all rough around the edges.”

I laughed.

“Ok.” Kate said. “I’ll try.”

It was Cool-guy’s first annual Christmas Eve party. Kate and I were helping him prepare a few appetizers before our guests arrived. We had invited twenty people over to eat the Indian food he’d spent twelve hours cooking and drink the hot buttered rum which would be the perfect dessert to any meal, if you ask me.

I had my hands in the spicy Indian pancake goop forming it into little, gooey balls. Um. Messy.

“Holly. Time to fry the pancakes.” Cool-guy announced.

I laughed. “Coming. I’m on my way. Here I come. Wait. Let me make one more pancake. No. Two more pancakes.”

“Now. Holly. It’s time.”

“Wait. Let me finish the last pancake.”

“Holly. The oil’s ready.”

“Wait. Now I have to wash this gook off my hands.” I said. Oh. I know. How do you fry these pancakes anyway? How big should they be? How brown?

“Here. Like this.” Cool-guy fried off a few samples.

Phew.

“I think I’ll light the candles.” Kate offered.

“Don’t.” I whispered harshly. “There’s too many.”

“Thanks.” Cool-guy ignored my whisperings and handed her the lighter.

“No problem.” She smiled. She cheerily started trimming and lighting candle after candle. Yeah. No. She wasn’t smiling after she’d trimmed and lit the two hundredth candle. But. The room was glowing as each flame stood obediently at attention atop its base. Kate hid the lighter not wanting to encourage Cool-guy to find any more stray wax. Come on. Two hundred?

Jake was the first to arrive. He brought along his little doggie, Ami.

“White wine?” I asked, remembering.

“Perfect.”

“I’ll let you open the bottle.” I smiled, handing him the cork screw.

“Is that the prize for showing up on time?” He laughed, taking the bottle. Maybe it was all the laughing and maybe it was the cork. Who knows where the blame would lay. But. The cork broke making removal seem impossible. “No problem.” He shrugged. “I’ll just push it through.”

“NO.” Cool-guy cried, rushing to the rescue. “I can open that bottle with my shoe.”

Everyone laughed.

“You can not.” Jake laughed. “How? I dare you.”

“Never dare me.” Cool-guy said, flatly as he removed his flat bottomed shoe.

“You’re making this up.” Jake insisted. “You can’t open a bottle with a shoe.”

“Do you need to try this over the sink?” Cool-guy’s mother suggested.

“No.” Cool-guy said. “The cork will come out slowly.

The two men pointed the neck of the wine bottle down and leaned over their experiment. Cool-guy whacked on the bottom of the bottle with the sole of his shoe. The thwack bounced across the room. They checked for change. The cork hadn’t moved.

“Nothing happened.” Jake smiled.

Cool-guy hit the bottle again. And again. And again. We were all amused. Who cared if spanking the bottle didn’t harbor results? It was a fun party trick even if it failed.

With no warning, the cork popped out champagne style, and wine poured onto the floor in a long, steady stream. The men were so surprised that it took them several seconds to right the bottle.

Dog-Ami started licking up the spilled wine.

Everyone laughed.

“It worked?”

“I can’t believe that worked.”

“Oh. I’ll remember that.” Jake laughed. “You never know when you’ll need that.”

More guests arrived. JR took over helping Cool-guy in the kitchen.

“Thank’s for letting him boss you around.” I said, kissing his cheek.

“No problem.” JR said. “It’s what he does best.”

Ralph arrived with his girlfriend. “I flew to Puerto Rico yesterday just so I could buy some duty free rum for the party.”

“Perfect gift.” I said to my best friend, the pilot.

“Look. It says on the bottle, ‘World’s Best Rum.”

I laughed. “And here I thought you didn’t like to read.”

Dinner was served. There were over twenty dishes. Fresh vegetable curry. Saag. Pampadoms. Um. Sure. The food was out of this world. We all knew it would be. Truly. The lamb was the best I had ever eaten. Cool-guy told me later that it was about three hundred dollars worth of lamb for twenty people. I know. And add to it the fact that he knew how to cook it and spice it. Yup. That good.

But. It wasn’t the level of food that made the evening so great. It was the rare mixture of guests ranging in age from two to seventy-five that brought about the festive mood, and the Charlie Brown Christmas tree burdened with too many ornaments that gave the party a touch of style, and the pine boughs that decorated the tables and made the room smell like Christmas.

The five-year-old let his mother wrestle him into his jacket. It was time to go home. His high pitched voice warned, “Everybody has to go to sleep. Hurry up. Santa Clause is coming. If everyone doesn’t go home and go to sleep, Santa won’t come here.”

The party, hours from being over, stopped for a moment while everyone remembered the anticipation of waiting for the man who would bring the gift of your dreams and lay it under your tree.

Cool-guy stepped forward. “I promise. Everyone will go home before Santa shows up.”

I smiled. “Be sure to go right to sleep as soon as you get home. Right to sleep, ok?”

The little boy nodded and hurried off into the brisk chill of the night pulling his little sister and parents after him. He wasn’t willing to miss a big present for some dumb old party.

Cool-guy turned to the adults left at the party. “Oh. Don’t worry. You can all stay. Santa wasn’t going to bring you anything, anyway.”

And. So. With a clinking of hot buttered rum glasses, the party continued.

Wanna try another column? How about #174: Me? Cross Country Ski? which is about skiing to my supper near Aspen, Colorado.

or Click here to go to Current Columns to pick another column. Or perhaps you would like to go to Column Finder by Subject to choose your next column about dating, or epilepsy or friends... you choose!

Don't miss out! Sign up to receive a free copy of Holly's column via e-mail each week. (All e-mail addresses are private... NEVER, EVER shared.)

Or send a blank e-mail to Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com Subject: Subscribe Me.

Comment on this column in The Forum

Or

Send Holly your comments. Tell her what you really think! Your comments might be published on her website, or in her weekly Yahoo Group e-mail. Send Comments

Wanna vote for your favorite column? Fan's favorite column picks will be added to the Fan's Favorite Five page. Send your pick for your favorite here. Fan's Favorite Column Pick

Copyright © 2004 by Holly Winter
www.livingthelifeofholly.com
All Rights Reserved