mgriffith
Posts: 2432
Joined: 12/10/2009 From: ATL area Status: offline
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I have come up for breath - at last - to reveal that Santa has gifted me a 2020 Chateau de Pez Saint-Estephe. I believe the proper vernacular is, "Woot!" Ok, maybe, "F***ing Yeah!" But we should avoid that language here. I also must apologize for missing the reveal call. You will, I think, grant me absolution once you know the reasons. On one thread or another, I mentioned that I was being evicted today from Chateau Chaos while TW (The Wife for those unfamiliar with some of my shorthand) and the nieces take over my kitchen and have their annual Cookie Bake. With over 30 consecutive years already in the books, I dare not mess with the tradition. And since I can bear only so much NSYNC, Brittany Spears, and other such hideous noise, I usually bail out, taking Santa's box with me, and participate at a remote location. This year I was not afforded that option. Well, not in any way I could take it. The short version of a long tale is simply this: After a long period of decline, we were forced to place my mother in a care facility just over a week ago. It was my father's decision, and I fully supported it. Today, he obliquely mentioned that he would like to go 'put flowers on the graves.' This phrase meant traveling 90 minutes each way just to visit his parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle, and my mother's parents' graves. I know in advance that this also means visiting the graves of several others in that cemetery who were large players in his youth. I also know that it means visiting one of his brothers' grave several more miles away as well as yet another cemetery where his great-great and great-great-great grandfathers lie. The latter is a cemetery that we are working to ensure is not lost and destroyed, Long story on that one. Anyhoo, the old man just turned 85 and I prefer he not drive more than necessary. Nor do I want him alone much right now for obvious reasons. So I was called to be chauffeur, tour guide, and general flunky today. While you all were opening boxes, I was helping The Old Man place flowers and not hurt himself tripping over headstones. I trust I am granted amnesty under the circumstances. Now, as to who my generous Santa might be . . . . I have the clue that his or her initial is J because the vendor included it in a note. I will have to sleuth more once I have rested and re-energized the worthless lump that passes for my brain these days.
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