Easter Dinner 2011

Easter is my holiday to have the big family dinner. My mom takes the Christmas holiday, and my older sister is stuck with having us at Thanksgiving (that holiday is a little on the boring side, if you ask me). And my little sister...well, the running joke is, she'll bring the bag of chips. 
When we all come together, it adds up to twenty-one bodies. Three couldn't make it, so I was down to feeding eighteen family members. Still, that's a lot of people, and not one of us is a dainty eater, so that meant that a lot of food needed to be made.
 Funny thing is, I do not enjoy cooking. I avoid it at almost all costs. As a matter of fact, while we were building our house, the only reason I even put in a kitchen, was because of my husband. He said that it would be good for the re-sale value. Oh, whatever.
Since I only do the bfd (big family dinner) once a year, I have the "Go big, or go home" kind of an attitude. It takes me weeks of planning and stocking up on supplies. I even decorate. And each year I host my own version of Dirty Bingo, which means that, over the course of months, I begin purchasing a plethora of doo-dads and what-nots that will serve as the Bingo prizes. In all actuality, as soon as the  New Year holiday is past, I commence planning the bfd.
There are several things I worry about when hosting a dinner. A myriad of concerns crowd my cranium. For example; will all of the hot food be ready at the same time? Would there be anything I needed at the last minute, that I forgot to buy? Will anyone find a hair in the green bean casserole? That my friend, would be the worst thing to have happen. When I find a hair in my food, ugh, I am done eating. Especially if it is already in my mouth when I discover it. BLEEECK! And that is why, when I am preparing any type of edibles, my hair is slicked back and secured with headbands, bobby pins, and a good shellacking of hairspray. And let me go on record as saying, the Amish-do is one hairstyle that I cannot rock.
This year, Easter was celebrated on April 24th, and the bfd came off without a hitch, thanks to my weeks of anal preparations, with Dirty Bingo being the highlight of the afternoon. I had a total of 38 wrapped Bingo prizes piled high onto the center of my table, and trust me when I say, there wasn't one trinket that anyone couldn't have lived without. The collection included things like candy, gum, mints, soaps, air-fresheners, hot pads, note pads, cheap sunglasses, body wash, squirt guns, bouncy balls, key chains and other small worthless baubles.
Anyway, about an hour after we finished eating, I heard my uncle ask my adorably wacky, seventy-eight year old aunt if she was ready to go home. She responded, "Not yet, we're about to play Bingo!"  This was the 4th annual Easter Bingo extravaganza, and people were looking forward to it. I smiled to myself at the tradition I had created.
Everyone clustered back around to the table, and my eight year old niece passed out the cards and the little round markers. As I began calling out the  numbers, I noticed that my aunt was having trouble reading her card. I was already aware that she was having some vision problems, but had no idea as to what extent. She would look to my uncle, who was busy keeping up with his own card, and then look down at her card, never placing any markers upon it. Soon, I observed, that she had just given up trying. However, before I knew it, I heard her holler BINGO! And it continued through out the entire game. Most of the time she was busy chatting, not even looking down at her card, and still, she managed to keep getting Bingo's! My husband, who had yet to call out a single Bingo, glanced my aunt's way to inspect her ever growing booty pile. The how-in-the-heck look on his face was priceless.  My aunt wasn't about to let a little eye-sight trouble ruin her fun. How I loved her for that!
When it comes to the bfd, I do have a way of making a mountain out of a mole-hill, but all of the hard work I put in is nothing, compared to the blessings I have received from spending time with family. That was my thought as I watched my aunt shuffle towards the door, her trove of treasures swinging from a Wal-mart bag that was looped around one of the handlebars of her walker. May the bubblewand and slide-whistle bring her much enjoyment.