This Christmas was an interesting one. At 5 in the morning my eyes popped open when I realized I had no pan to cook the ham in. The only pan that would work for was currently housing one of three large batches of cookies from the day before.
Later that became a smaller problem beside finding a ham that would work for this year (ideally one that had not been in the freezer for at least twice the recommended time). All the stores were closed. ALL of them and in a last ditch effort I called my mom. (Cliche, yes; effective, certainly.) She just happened to have a ham, thawed, and ready in her refrigerator. So, after I showered I loaded up Bobby and we made great time across town, given that it was early-ish on Christmas morning and most people were in their homes instead of on the road. Then we got back home and around noon the ham went in the oven. I was so on top of this!
Then, I was eating a late lunch of tomato soup (I am addicted to the stuff right now) when it ocurred to me that I had no bread sticks or rolls or anything of that sort. I had potatoes and corn, so starch was definitely covered, but it's a bit of a requirement to have bread of some sort. So, once again I called my mom (it worked the first time!) and it worked this time as well. So now I owe her a ham and a thing of breadsticks. They made it over and when all the sisters arrived from their house-sitting jobs, and the boys in the family started waking up from their afternoon naps, we finally got dinner on the table about 4:00. Which is exactly one hour later than that ham should have been coming out of the oven at the latest.
It was covered in aluminum foil, and so it wasn't until I had it out, and we were ready to cut it and put it on a serving plate that I pulled back the foil to reveal a cross between a ham and a big chunk of bacon on a bone. One of my sisters just laughed and left the kitchen. "Maybe, it's just the glaze that's crispy," Bob said in his ever-optimisitc way.
"I didn't put the glaze on the ham." I responded before we both laughed about it and just cut it into chunks. My sister said she wouldn't tell anyone, but it was kind of hard to miss the crispy, crispy edges, and the darker than normal color of the meat. My other sister said, "At least we know we won't get food poisoning!" But then my dad pointed out that it was already fully-cooked, I was technically just supposed to be reheating it.
In the end it turned out alright. Bobby even ate some (which is crazy), and we had fun opening presents and stockings later. This just wasn't the year for a smooth-sailing Christmas. But we still had fun and despite all of the potential for disaster, it went quite well.