After last year’s epic Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, which required a Part Two and even a very-extra Part Three to fully process, Suzie and I almost took a year off from this annual-but-for-Covid event. Our first one was a whopping eight years ago, meaning that most of the Children that once formed the impetus for this gathering are now teenagers. That stings, as the passing of time so often does. Rather than skip out on a year however, we are doing it on a casual and scaled-down degree. Whatever happens is what will happen, and as long as good people are involved it can’t help but be a good time. Right. Right?
With the way this year has gone, it also looks to be a bit of a fiasco because whenever I let my planning guard down, shit goes wrong. I’m embracing that though, and playing up the ridiculous panoply that we regard as life these days. It’s the only way to survive a joint-planning expedition with Suzie. Best laid plans and all…
Here is a peek at our prep process for the holiday mayhem about to ensue:
ALAN: What are your thoughts on this year’s Boston Children’s Holiday Hour?
SUZIE: I say, charcuterie board. Pack of cards, some plastic spoons. Done. I don’t know how we can top last year what with Argentina’s massive win. So why even try.
ALAN: Don’t cry for me Argentina. I mean my wardrobe anyway. That can always be topped. It was fucking Adidas x Marimekko. Plastic spoons or chocolate spoons? Should’t we at least try something festive?
SUZIE: Yeah! That’ll totally do it! Wear the [redacted].
ALAN: Hush hush sweet Charlotte, that is a mystery of the holiday card that shouldn’t even be whispered about yet. Remember John Mulaney! Loose lips sink ships! Besides, [redacted] are too hot. Are you thinking silk organza?
SUZIE: How did you know that?
ALAN: I have a fifth sense about such matters. And no on silk organza. There’s usually at least one spill at these things. A spill that someone else will have to clean up, but still, I’m often in the general area.
SUZIE: That’s true. Silk organza is too risky…
Well, you get the idea, and you have an inkling of how this year’s holidays are going to play the fuck out. All of which brings me to the following photo, taken during our ‘Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?’ era, on the morning that I served Suzie whisked eggs in Ithaca, NY.
“I didn’t bring your breakfast, because you didn’t eat your din-din!”
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