Lookin' for Food in All the Wrong Places

I found out at the last minute that I would have the girls for most of the day today. I was happy about it, but I didn't have anything planned for dinner and almost no food in my house. I've been letting it run out because the girls are leaving tomorrow until saturday, and I'm also broke.

The problem, of course, is that hardly anything is open on Christmas in my town. I drove around and found a couple of convenience stores and for some reason, Walgreens was open. With those two choices, I imagined our menu options to be either Slim Jims and Little Debbie snack cakes washed down with a 32 ounce Big Gulp, or cough drops and laxatives washed down with some Nyquil. I was thinking the latter might be more fun, but either way, we probably wouldn't feel very good about halfway through dinner.

So, I did what I always do when I need some good suggestions, or if I ever want to read a post where a man talks to his penis - I perused Neil's blog. Once there, my issue was instantly solved. In his post he wrote, "If you want me today, you can find me with the other Jews at your local Chinese restaurant, playing Mah Jongg with the restaurant staff." That was it. I called around to see if any Chinese restaurants were open, and luckily, our favorite one was serving like it was just another day. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated non-Christians today.

Then I got to wondering if I had ever had to work on Christmas day. There was at least one. In 1986, I was cooking at a ski resort in Big Bear Lake, California. I had to work a double shift on Christmas because everyone else except one other guy was at home ill. We were both sick too, but neither of us could afford to see a doctor, so we weren't able to procure a note excusing us. I'm sure we infected more than one B movie actor that day. I still have visions of Jan Michael Vincent, Cheech Marin, or Pam Dawber struck down with my particular strain of virus.