And now, a few morning words from Gill.
Wait, before we get to that, I must say a little something. Yesterday she, unfairly I feel, slagged on Christmas fruit cake. I shall now, as I did in the comments, confess that I enjoy the stuff. I don’t know why it gets such a bad rap. The rum balls she mentions today, on the other hand, those things are generally horrible and are best used to weigh down a garbage can. It’s no wonder you harfed after consuming them, Gill.
When the little boy in a Christmas Story was triple dog dared to stick his tongue to
a medal pole, and actually did so he created his own version of Yikes factor. This
is that thing that one does unknowingly to push the boundaries.
I, when I was ten years old, created my own Yikes factor. My great-aunt had kindly
made these rum balls. I, not wanting to be rude, took one, then another, then
another. Things seemed fine, until later that night, when my stomach erupted like a
powder keg. Since then my rum ball experience has gone from cautionary story to
humorous holiday memory.
How does one deal with Holiday Yikes Factor? Chill, it may not be funny now, and
even in the future you may talk about it with discomfort, but it is something that
will help others.
See you soon
I’ve never been able to stomach more than one of those things. Yuck.
That puts you one ahead of Gill, apparently.
Leave a comment