MERRY CHRISTMAS! WHERE'S THE SALMON.
Well, Christmas has switched into high gear over here at the Doxie residences, and by "residences," I mean not just MY house, but also my parents' house, where we will all be spending Christmas, and y'all, we are ALL FREAKING OUT.
The majority of our pre-Christmas experience can be summed up by an actual, true conversation that occurred between my mother and myself, and...unfortunately, we've lost our minds. No, seriously. It's sad. Send help.
Yesterday, I walked into my parents' house, and immediately heard a strange and frightening shrieking coming from somewhere in the kitchen area. So, suspicious and concerned, I went to go check it out. And there, standing in the middle of the kitchen, was my poor mother, her hands on her hips and her eyes all wild. And as soon as she saw me, she pointed at me, and in this crazed, banshee-like voice, shrilled: "WHERE THE FUCK IS THE SALMON?"
TURNS OUT, my mother had gotten home from the grocery store, let the dogs out, and started putting away the groceries. About halfway through, she went to let the dogs back in. And she counted. And there was one dog missing. And that dog was Bo.
Now, y'all may remember that Bo is Wilful. And, also, Bad. And when mom couldn't find him, she called, but he did not come. Which surprised nobody. Because Bo feels that he should not be shackled by the antiquated requirements of "coming when called." He is sort of like a cat that way.
And my parents have a fenced yard, but as mom went to look for him, she saw that one of the gates was ever-so-slightly open. Which meant that Bo could have gotten out. And "out", to my dogs, means "made an immediate beeline for the street, in order to hitchhike their small, brown way out of my home and off to a compound in Guam, where they will forever be free from the yoke of DIET DOG FOOD, because I am SO EVIL TO THEM."
So she panicked, and immediately began sprinting all over the yard, and the neighbor's yard, and up to the street, and all over Buckhead, pretty much, screaming, "BOOOOO" as loudly as a Southern lady can scream (and that is actually pretty loud, y'all). But still: no Bo. So she COMPLETELY freaks out, runs back to the house to call me on my phone to tell me that DOG IS FREE, REPEAT, DOG IS FREE, and she runs into the kitchen, and immediately trips over Bo, who had been chilling out in his dog bed THE ENTIRE TIME.
And it was about then that she realized that she'd lost the salmon. She had HAD the salmon when she started looking. Now, no salmon. Where did salmon go? This was the big question. And then I had walked in. NICE TIMING, SELF!
And so there we were, my poor, winded mother, staring crazy and BLAMING ME with every ounce of blame in her body (and again, Southern woman, so lots of that, too), and thinking WHY did she have to have a FIRST child, when she EASILY could have just skipped onto the SECOND, and the SECOND child has NEVER ONCE descended upon the household with FOUR FUCKING DOGS, and maybe she should just REWRITE THE WILL, NOW THAT SHE IS THINKING ABOUT IT.
But I didn't know any of this yet. All I knew was that I had walked in and found my mother screaming about salmon. And I was afraid. But she pointed at me, and the following occurred:
Mom: WHERE IS THE SALMON.
Self: I don't...know? Salmon?
Mom: FIND. THE FUCKING. SALMON.
Self: Right. Where, um...where might it be?
Mom: IT COULD BE ANYWHERE. THE STREET. OR THE YARD.
Self: The salmon may be in the...yard.
Mom: OR IT COULD BE IN THE CLOSET.
Self: Why in the HELL would the salmon be in the closet?
Mom: THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.
Self: But I just GOT here!
Mom: FIND! THE! FUCKING! SALMON!
Self: OKAY! FINE.
Mom: LOOK IN THE GARDEN.
We eventually found the salmon. It was sitting on the front steps. NATURALLY.
But since then, things have been going pretty well. Tonight we'll have a big dinner, and then I'm going over to Dukay's house for his family's annual Christmas party. And the tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!
I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, and I wish you all the best. May your homes be filled with love and laughter, and your garden...with salmon.