Angry Mama

"It's you!" my beloved child said to me, pointing and squealing in delight. "It's short. It has red hair and it's angry."

Working hard to be affronted, I said, "I'm not always angry."

Ali laughed. "It's SO you."

The "you" being discussed is what may be the most remarkable Christmas gift of the season: the Angry Mama stocking stuffer, which according to word on the street, is an effective and entertaining microwave cleaner. I don't have hard evidence, just two reviews from others who also received the item in their stocking and have used it.

Her head apparently spins around for 7 minutes while she squirts a vinegar and water mixture around.

I, for once, have a stunningly clean microwave already thanks to an explosion involving something red and sticky that happened just before we left for Christmas at home in Maine. I'll have to wait for a day or so for another catastrophe in our microwave.

For the record, I do, on the rare occasion, get angry. My head does not spin around, though, no matter what Ali and Jeff may claim.

In other news, we had a great time in Maine. Grandpa claims the crustaceans off the coast will be watching for Alison's return, and he may be on to something. On the way out, we discovered Gaicha Sushi at the Baltimore airport. It's worth planning your connections in Baltimore. On our return trip, the manager remembered us, and we had another lovely meal, including a sample of a new menu item. Ali can eat her weigh in just about any dish she likes, and she's getting more adventurous of late.

She left behind a mountain of hard shell crab at our annual Christmas Eve at a Chinese buffet in Portland. She munched on a softshell crab on the way home.

She worked a little of it off breaking ice up on the driveway. There was a ton of snow, which was pretty and only hazardous a couple of the days. I helped with the driveway and served as a craft beer mule for Jeff, who was determined to visit new and exciting breweries and beer outlets while he was there. We went with three suitcases of clothes, gifts and a few beers he took to share with other beer nerds he was planning to visit. We came home with six suitcases.

I think there was at least an equal ratio of Christmas gifts to beer, but I wouldn't be surprised if the beer edged the gifts out.

While waiting for one of the breweries to open its new release sales, I stood with Jeff who had made beer friends with a young couple behind us. They'd driven up from Connecticut and this was their second stop of the day. We'd passed a jack-knifed semi that had crashed into a sedan, a car that was on its roof in a ditch and a handful of other cars that had slid off the turnpike due to snow and sleet.

The young woman behind us asked if we were going to hang a while and sample the beer as well as buying the coveted new bottles or cans. It's possible I channeled the Angry Mama when I declined for the both of us before Jeff could reply.

She looked at me like I was the mean mom who didn't let her kids play in the rain. Maybe so, chickie, but there was no way I was making a call home to Grandpa telling him we'd crashed the car and were calling from the local county lock-up.

Harumph!

We may have done our best work in the cookie department this year. I had earlier reported to Ali that Auntie Jen was asking if we still wanted to make cookies. It's a tradition we started back when Ali was about two or so and horrified her Grammie by her less-than-precise cookie cutting and insistence on licking the icing spoons.

"Uh, duh!" was Ali's reply to the hint of a suggestion that we might not want to invade Jen's kitchen.

 In other traditions, Alison dragged out the dominoes. Grandpa long ago resigned himself to being bested by the reigning champ, and it was another year for Ali to triumph. We only played five rounds and while Grandpa managed to start each game by having the right doubles, that was his only luck.

Grammie taught Ali to play, and I'm convinced passed along her cutthroat approach to the game. Here they are, back in the day. you be the judge.

 On the other hand....

 

Hope your Christmas was great and you have only high-fives in the new year.