I'm making soup tonight for dinner. Trying to use up the rest of a roast I made two nights ago. I hate to waste food--it's so expensive, and we are getting ready to go home to spend a day or two with my family in Altona, Illinois, so if we don't use it tonight, it won't be any good.
My step-dad will be making oyster soup tomorrow. It's a family tradition that must go back on his side. Don't tell anyone but I think the recipe comes from the back of the can of oysters. They eat at 5:00 p.m. and I am already back-timing the day to make sure we are not late. If we can get there by 4:00, we should be good. Which means we would need to leave at 12:00, which really means we should leave at 11:00 because we are always running late, it seems. I am 45 years old, yet we all know when we go home we are 16 again, and late again.
We wouldn't want to miss the soup, or the traditions that follow. My nephews usually arm wrestle me, and then Randy. We still wrestle around on the floor some. We'll drink a little something, and likely gather around the TV and watch an old Western most of us have seen before. We will get really hot from the wrestling, and the drinking, and all of the bodies piled in the living room together, and it will feel good to go to the back porch or even outside to look at the stars.
On a clear night, the stars are bright in that part of the country.
No, we don't want to be late for any of it, because one never knows how many Christmases we will have together. And I will finally ask the others if they chew the oysters or swallow them whole.
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