Dad is a decisive person weighing his options.
Dad: InExcelsisDeo’s son graduates from military mechanic school in Pittsburgh on the 23rd.
Tata: That date can only have been set by a man whose wife wipes his nose, and to whom he doesn’t listen. Fucker!
Dad: Do you kiss babies with that mouth?
Tata: What did you say when you heard about it?
Dad: “What fucking madness.”
Tata: Moving on, then…
Dad: Your brother Todd comes in from California on the 30th and stays until the 2nd.
Tata: Really? I knew he’d be here at some point.
Dad: And Dara has to have Christmas with her mother and be back to school on the 2nd. I can only make one trip. What are your plans?
Tata: Gluttony and sloth. Tell me when and where, and I’m there.
Dad: My problem is I promised my sister I’d make Christmas Eve dinner, since she will be out of town until appetizers are plated.
Tata: Don’t worry. My sister, my cousins and I will do it.
OH MY GOD! Did you see that coming? Because I didn’t!
Dad: How’s the apartment?
Tata: I’m considering piling the remaining boxes in front of a vulnerable window and calling it my burglar alarm. I may leave it for my grandchildren to incinerate when they cart me off to the home!
Dad: Serves ‘em right! Bastards!
Tata: They’re cashing my social security checks! I would!
So Dad’s staying three hundred miles away for Italian Christmas Eve. This morning, panic set in when Auntie InExcelsisDeo agreed to let the Girl Gang do the cooking because there just isn’t any other way that doesn’t involve folding our arms and blinking forth Emeril. I call my cousin Sandy, eight months older than Miss Sasha, most of a foot taller and 100% more local. Sandy’s temporarily bunking in at Auntie InExcelsisDeo’s family compound in South Brunswick, which gives us access to modern on-site refrigeration in the absence of the homeowner. And salmon!
Tata: Your sister told your mother who told my sister who told me that she, your sister Monday, wanted to make the chicken and polenta.
Sandy: Monday wants to eat the chicken and polenta.
Tata: What do you want to cook?
Sandy: I can’t cook.
Tata: Fine. You’ll make Edith’s bean salad. We’ll make the manicotti together. You’ll make shrimp pose seductively in a circle.
Sandy: WE’LL COOK TOGETHER?!
Tata: Are you in traffic?
Sandy: Bumper to bumper.
Tata: You are a danger to yourself and others. Doesn’t your boyfriend have a Costco card?
Sandy: He does.
Tata: Keep your eyes on the road. If you crash, he might be too busy whining about what a marvelous person you were to go shopping for your family. You’re so selfish!
If you read the stories leading up to Miss Sasha’s wedding, you know Daria, Monday, Sandy and I are now lined up to play a mixed doubles game of YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! Daria calls.
Daria: Did Daddy call you?
Tata: Daddy called me.
Daria: Did you talk to Auntie InExcelsisDeo?
Tata: I talked to Auntie InExcelsisDeo.
Daria: Do you know why he’s not coming?
Tata: He’s coming, just later. Todd’s coming later.
Daria: Stop talking to me like that!
Tata: You stop talking to me like that!
Daria: Don’t be so bossy!
Tata: You don’t be so bossy!
Daria: I’m going to hang up on you in a minute!
Tata: Pot to Black Kettle! Come in, Black Kettle!
Daria: You taking the right half and I’m taking the left half of the buffet?
Tata: I talked to Sandy. She’s psyched. We’re going to cook.
Daria: Oh my God, Sandy’s going to cook?
Tata: We have boyfriends, fiances, cousins and spare moms. With any luck, we will also have other help. It’s going to be fine.
Daria: Are you drunk? They let you drink on university property? Hello!
Tata: We’ll put appetizers on every flat surface and make Monday bake something into dessert-like submission. And fuck anybody who complains.
Daria: My husband will handle the meats.
Tata: …And there’s my cue to hang up.
If I had money, I’d hire a camera crew and a bulletproof director. If I were smart, I’d hide the fondue forks. I don’t, and I’m not, so it’s stuffed mushrooms and a side of SHUT UP AND DICE for me!