Tonight is the last lap of the family Christmas marathon. Around 40 adults, most of whom I either don't know at all or last met when I was pregnant with my almost 7 year old. I am making 2 giant salads but that is a minor sneeze compared to my amazing (and at this stage very exhausted) mother-in-law, who is assembling a BBQ for 40 (plus children).
The husb. is cooking the meat. I may bring him home in the boot depending on how greasy he is. Mind you, the boot is carpetted. Maybe he could perch on the bonnet.
The children are excited to participate in a cousin fest. There may well be 20 or so of them. A few first cousins and a flotilla of seconds and removals (or is that removeds? - frankly I made that up).
This will be our big opportunity to deliver the last of our Christmas presents and the delightful home made cards, complete with remarkably accurate spelling, courtesy of Monster1.
When packing for the holiday I included some homemade cherry jams as gifts then packed a tiny jar of raspberry for us*. Having demolished the raspberry, the jam addicts (husb. and Monster2) have started on their first jar of commercial jam in several years. It is low on fruit, absent of texture, lacking brightness of flavour, strangely pip-less and has a strong acid aftertaste. Pretty typical commercial jam. I should have some willing helpers in the picking and cutting department for the rest of the jam season (heh heh heh).
After tonight's fandango our holiday will officially begin. We will hit the pools, beaches and volcanic lakes with gay abandon and several tubes of sunscreen. The new boards may well hit a wave rather than their current impressive work on the lounge carpet. I doubt if you can sing a surfing song and dance in a fairy dress on a real wave.
*Well, not me. I like to make it but don't actually eat it as I can't resist the call of the vegemite when faced with toast.