A Holiday Tradition since 2007....

There's nothing like a good old fashioned Christmas dinner. You know, the ones with family and friends gathered around the table joyously partaking of savory ham and casseroles, homemade bread and pies. And I should know because this year's Christmas evening dinner the total opposite of that delightful picture and most definitely the most bizarre of my lifetime. Due to the circumstances surrounding my Grandpa's funeral services, Christmas night found our family scattered about and in quite abnormal circumstances. Richard was at our home in Springfield alone. Mom, Dad and Lil Sis were at their home in Poplar Bluff playing board games and who knows what else. Lil Bro and his wife were across the sea in Scotland I was in a foreign-to-me town in Illinois with the three kids and my aunt.

It was only after driving into IL on Tuesday that we realized, oh yes, it's 6pm and we should eat. It was only after attempting to coordinate a meal with my uncle who was in nearby St. Louis with his family in a hotel that we discovered, oh yes, it's CHRISTMAS DAY and NOTHING IS OPEN. Aunt and kids and I decided to go it alone and ventured out to find something...anything...that might provide sustenance. Wal-Mart, closed. Culver's, closed. Steak-and-Shake, closed. St. Louis Bread Company (allow me to pause here and give thanks that they still call it that somewhere on the planet...Panera is such a lame name...), closed. That left us with Denny's...which didn't sound too bad, so we piled out of the van and eagerly filed in. And we waited. And waited. To be seated. Meanwhile the stench of cigarette smoke was seeping into our pores and I was wishing I had brought some masks for the kids. While there appeared to be plenty of seating, we were told it was a 45-minute wait on food. So, we moseyed back out to the van and spent 8 (hundred) minutes buckling the kids into their seats while the young childless couple who had been BEHIND us in the Denny's line raced out of the parking lot hoping to BEAT US to the only other lighted building in the area...the Waffle House. They did beat us. Congratulations and best Christmas wishes to them. But, we were still given a little booth right away. Joy.

Thankfully, the greasy pit where they make the food was in full view. Avery was enamored. She stood up in the booth for the first 15 minutes watching the cook's every move. We ordered off of the greasy menus and I was quick to pass around the Germ X. When I dared to ask the grumpy waitress if there was any fruit available she quickly responded with a jolly "It's not a health food store." Yes, clearly, and thanks for the confirmation as I wipe this grease out of my eye. Have I mentioned the grease yet? I just want to make sure that point was clear. It was greasy in there.

Midway through the meal, Richie had to go potty. Not wanting to add any bodily fluid to the greasy situation, I hopped up quickly toward the ladies room just as two women beat us to the door. When potty training, time is of the essence, so I decided to go where no ME has ever gone before. Into the men's bathroom. If all men's bathrooms are as delightful as the one in this IL Waffle House, dear heavenly help me as I vow to NEVER EVER go in one again. I will spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that it was nasty in there.....and I've never seen such in a public toilet IN MY LIFE. Richie finished his biz and we washed hands thoroughly and I’m pretty sure I RAN out of the bathroom, dodging the confused eyes of the small boy who greeted me on my way out no doubt wondering what in the world a grown woman was doing in the men’s room.

Nevertheless, once I settled into my meal it occurred to me with poignant clarity that THIS was my Christmas dinner for 2007. Ah, memories. I couldn’t help but notice the sign above the register acknowledging and thanking me for my choice. No, Waffle House, Thank YOU. Even though you were certainly not my first choice (or second, or hundredth), you did have the courtesy to be OPEN on Christmas night so that poor souls like Aunt, kids and me could at least have a bite to eat. And, little did I know that this has been a holiday tradition since 1955; your golden lights beaming into the Christmas night sky beckoning all who hunger into your greasy halls. And, I suppose the tradition will continue. I will just prefer to opt out….forever, henceforth.

Oh, and I would be remiss not to mention that Uncle D., Aunt L., their teenagers and Aunt L.’s parents ended up at a Hooters somewhere near us in St. Louis. Yes, my Christian Iowa relatives apparently donned blindfolds and read the Braille on the menus…oh no…wait…that’s not right. They partied it up like it was 2008! In fact, I’ve seen a picture of Aunt’s Dad, we’ll call him Grandpa D.M. snuggled up to three of the Hooter girls. I’ve been delaying on this post until I had that picture in my hot little hands, but it would appear that his kids are having mercy on him because I haven't received it yet....once that picture gets on the WORLD WIDE WEB, there’s no telling what all conservative Iowa heck might break loose!

Here’s hoping your Christmas dinner was all that you hoped it would be. And if it wasn’t, that you’re at least able to get a few good laughs out of it! Cheers!