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- Sep 27, 2008
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I made a post elsewhere today where I noted who doesn’t have holiday stories of hilarious or awful or disastrous nature, especially family members in starring roles or unfortunate guests. Some have appeared in other threads, but let’s see what we catch here.
Any holiday - or wedding, funeral or other family gathering.
Childhood or adulthood.
Hilarious, unintentionally funny, things gone wrong, pets doing crazy stuff, horrifying, That Person/Relative, Stuff You Can’t Unsee, Stuff You Can’t Make Up.
And name it!
I’ll start.
The Great Potato Scam
I was new to DH’s family and spending our first major holiday with them. One of the older aunts prided herself on being THE cook in the family - we were all fairly food-savvy - but she critiqued everyone and everything, comparing it to how she prepared something or how it should taste if properly done. She always contributed her “rave review” twice-baked potatoes, about which she always let us know how many hours she spent preparing them and piping her special filling in. I dutifully ate them. My silent thought balloon: “They’re orange and tasteless.” DH privately agreed, and everyone ate them as family should, as they had for years.
After her funeral many years and many potatoes later, we were at their house, having a fine family wake. Her husband had a quiet sense of humor and was a thoroughly nice man. Someone had a touch too much of something, and raised a glass to toast the potatoes. To everyone’s surprise, her husband rose and stated as much as he would miss his beloved wife, he would not miss those potatoes, at which much hilarity ensued. Furthermore, he went on to say, she would bake the potatoes, scoop them out, DISCARD it all, take a box of Betty Crocker instant mashed potatoes, prepare them, add orange food coloring and salt and pepper, and pipe them fancily into the skins. Absolutely nothing like what she said she did. It is now a tradition to always have a toast to “Aunt X’s Potatoes,” and share the story with younger family members.
The Piney Woods Turkey
I have shared this story here on SAF before, I am sure, but here are the bare bones.
I was about 8. Family Thanksgiving at our house. Many cocktails were being consumed, and my mother’s younger sister was fond of them.
Mom sent her to the kitchen to baste the turkey with the cooking oil and brush on the counter near the stove.
A little while later, Mom sent me to the kitchen to refill the ice bucket for Dad.
I came back with the ice and reported the kitchen smelled like pine trees and it was nice.
I followed Mom to the kitchen. Little sister had apparently basted the bird with PineSol, also on the counter near the sink. The bird was gloriously brown and emanated piney woods. My mom’s face took on a grim set as we heaved the bird and its stuffing into the trash and cleaned up the pan. She retrieved a sizable ham and served it with the stuffing and a gravy she somehow made without drippings, and served it and all the fine sides right up as if nothing had happened. My father wandered into the kitchen, took one look at my mother’s face, then the ham, and I am sure he wondered about the pine smell, and left. No one at the table said a word about the missing turkey.
What I don’t know and should have asked as an adult, was what she said to her younger sister.
Any holiday - or wedding, funeral or other family gathering.
Childhood or adulthood.
Hilarious, unintentionally funny, things gone wrong, pets doing crazy stuff, horrifying, That Person/Relative, Stuff You Can’t Unsee, Stuff You Can’t Make Up.
And name it!
I’ll start.
The Great Potato Scam
I was new to DH’s family and spending our first major holiday with them. One of the older aunts prided herself on being THE cook in the family - we were all fairly food-savvy - but she critiqued everyone and everything, comparing it to how she prepared something or how it should taste if properly done. She always contributed her “rave review” twice-baked potatoes, about which she always let us know how many hours she spent preparing them and piping her special filling in. I dutifully ate them. My silent thought balloon: “They’re orange and tasteless.” DH privately agreed, and everyone ate them as family should, as they had for years.
After her funeral many years and many potatoes later, we were at their house, having a fine family wake. Her husband had a quiet sense of humor and was a thoroughly nice man. Someone had a touch too much of something, and raised a glass to toast the potatoes. To everyone’s surprise, her husband rose and stated as much as he would miss his beloved wife, he would not miss those potatoes, at which much hilarity ensued. Furthermore, he went on to say, she would bake the potatoes, scoop them out, DISCARD it all, take a box of Betty Crocker instant mashed potatoes, prepare them, add orange food coloring and salt and pepper, and pipe them fancily into the skins. Absolutely nothing like what she said she did. It is now a tradition to always have a toast to “Aunt X’s Potatoes,” and share the story with younger family members.
The Piney Woods Turkey
I have shared this story here on SAF before, I am sure, but here are the bare bones.
I was about 8. Family Thanksgiving at our house. Many cocktails were being consumed, and my mother’s younger sister was fond of them.
Mom sent her to the kitchen to baste the turkey with the cooking oil and brush on the counter near the stove.
A little while later, Mom sent me to the kitchen to refill the ice bucket for Dad.
I came back with the ice and reported the kitchen smelled like pine trees and it was nice.
I followed Mom to the kitchen. Little sister had apparently basted the bird with PineSol, also on the counter near the sink. The bird was gloriously brown and emanated piney woods. My mom’s face took on a grim set as we heaved the bird and its stuffing into the trash and cleaned up the pan. She retrieved a sizable ham and served it with the stuffing and a gravy she somehow made without drippings, and served it and all the fine sides right up as if nothing had happened. My father wandered into the kitchen, took one look at my mother’s face, then the ham, and I am sure he wondered about the pine smell, and left. No one at the table said a word about the missing turkey.
What I don’t know and should have asked as an adult, was what she said to her younger sister.
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