Thoughts On Holiday Self-Quarantine From Your Unbothered Christian Grandmother
Don’t worry, dear, Christ is coming soon. You hungry?
I have leftover ambrosia coleslaw from Pilgrim Pinochle last week, so I’m all set. They closed the community center again, but we just moved everything to Nora’s. It’s just her and that dumb husband in a big ol’ house, so there was plenty of room for all the card tables. She had some from the high school. Did you hear it’s shut down through the end of the year? Nora’s still teaching flute in the auditorium, though.
Stop cleaning, love. I already sprayed down the doorknobs. Ralphs still didn’t have my Clorox wipes. Can you believe that? I went to the shelf where they always are and it was empty as an atheist again. It was kinda spooky, like that show you watch with the lesbian who cries at clowns, but Bill O’Reilly said on his website to keep cleaning the knobs and the telephones, so I bought some Pine-Sol even though it gives me asthma. They had three big jugs left. Can you imagine, I survive the bug but die from an asthma attack cleaning the Bible cabinet? Bill was wearing the sharpest blue tie, though, and he made it very clear. You want some cinnamon bread? It makes the best toast.
Carol called, said they changed the hours at Macy’s and wouldn’t let her in. It’s about time! Apparently, the apocalypse is the only thing that can stop that woman from buying leopard print. She’s been out running around every single day, can you believe it? I told her yesterday at Chili’s she should be more careful.
Anyway, I put Brenda’s birthday card in the mail, but I didn’t lick the envelope. Used that sponge I like. The one from Big Lots? Looks like a ladybug? It’s so cute, I’ve had it for years. I should probably throw it out now, but how would I seal envelopes? Poor Brenda’s cruise was re-canceled. I told her it was for the best. I can’t imagine being stuck on a boat with Hershel, bug or no bug. I’d only last a few days before I’d have to walk on water all the way home. Are you sure you don’t want some cinnamon toast? It tastes like cake, but it’s regular bread, so it doesn’t count.
Carol said you’re more likely to be struck by lightning four times than get the bug, but no one’s been struck by lightning four times! Beth’s dog walker has it and she never even goes out in the rain. You remember Beth’s dog, Weiner? He’s such a disgusting, sweet little thing. Was over here the other day and drooled all over my new Christmas display. You seen it yet? Blake Shelton’s a holiday ham and he sings about the atonement to a bunch of little elves. You want some ham? I have leftovers from Quilting for Christ. I quilted a grandchild who calls me more. The ham would be good with the toast.
Don’t you worry! I promise I won’t go out again. I just have the Winter Resurrection Festival down at the church playground in a bit, but that’s it, I swear. Alberta’s been planning it for months and with the Lord’s Lady Lounge closed it might be my only chance to have some cabernet. Fake Jesus turns water into wine after he rises from the jungle gym. Those church kids are always sneezing and coughing, but I’m dressing as a jolly yuletide leper, so my face will be covered. I’ll just make a little hole in the robes and sip my wine through a straw. It’ll be fine, I promise. If Mary could god-birth our Lord and Savior in a pile of straw and sheep snot, I can bring my Jell-O nativity to the church cafetorium.
No, I’m all set on food, dear. There are lots of boxed potatoes in the pantry, and Carol’s dropping by with a half turkey and some vodka fruit cake from WinCo after she gets her toes done. The salon’s closed again, but if you hang your feet out your car window, they can reach your nails just fine. I got bloody crowns of thorns on my big toes, with an extra cross on the crooked pinky.
You want butter or jam on your toast?
