I am a terrible housekeeper. Maybe it stems from a lack of home economics in my education. Being in the band saved me from PE and home economics.

I’m furiously cleaning for the McMurray Christmas dinner this Friday. Over forty of us now and we sit down to a feast and eat off Christmas china and crystal and things that are hand washed. I’ve been doing the all dishes the last few years, late after every one goes home. They think I’m afraid they’ll break something but I don’t care if anything breaks. I just want everyone to be together and when they go home remember all the happy conversations and the Santa excitement on the children’s faces. I think it’s much more important we visit with each other and hold the babies, making memories for years to come.

Every year before I moved permanently to Roanoke it was a hard schedule to put up a tree in every room just coming on the weekends and set the tables up and cook my part of the food for dinner. All my sisters-in-law always offer to help with the table set ups but I stubbornly plod full steam ahead by myself. I know it’s just family and they don’t care if the house is not spic and span. As my daughter-in-law told me years ago, “The most important thing is we all be together.”

I’m sitting in my bedroom looking at the agglomerations of things that are in here from my cleaning the front rooms and the kitchen. And wondering how it all got in here! Straight ahead in the corner are one window air conditioner, camouflaged by a pile of six blankets, a box fan, a ceiling light fixture for the kitchen with six little lampshades, a ceiling fan, and three clothes baskets of framed photos that I have no earthly idea where they came from or where they go and a box of beautiful old brass bathroom pipes my handyman found in a high cabinet in the bathroom. Not as bad as it seems, the bedroom is large enough to hold that corner. In my defense, some things are for the house renovations. Eventually these things will find their place and I hope nobody will wander in here and think, “O my God!”

Will not shame myself telling you what’s on top of my long desk. Let’s just say might I need a day in here to get it in shape.

All my Christmas things live in the closets in the guest bedroom where all my grandchildren sleep. Let me say, in all honesty, all three twin beds are piled with Christmas balls and decorations. A flea could not find a place to lay his head! Good thing is I can just put all those things back in the closets. Then wash all the covers and vacuum 5000 times so nobody steps on a piece of broken Christmas ball.

Last year Handley knelt down and stuck a small piece of a broken glass ball in her knee and I thought I’d never get it out. And I had no bandaids! Probably the only grandparent without bandaids! Always have a spare whoopie cushion but never a bandaid! A sin I know! But I put a piece of paper towel on the cut, folded it over, and secured it with my trusty duct tape. Always, always have duct tape. She loved that homemade bandaid and couldn’t wait to show her mama and daddy when they got home. I think Thomas wanted to call Shady Oaks!

When Chief and I were talking about getting married he laughed and said he had three requirements for a wife. She had to be a good cook, make homemade biscuits, and darn socks! Well, I couldn’t do any of that but I was wise enough to say okay. I was so thankful that immaculate housekeeping was not a requirement. I have a little framed sampler that says, “Dull women have immaculate houses.” Mama gave me a little plaque years ago that said, “My house was clean yesterday, sorry you missed it!”

I called my mother every Thursday and Friday night for two years to ask her cooking questions. Chief and I ate supper together every Saturday night at my apartment. He thought I was a better cook than his mother! That’s a compliment! I got his mother to teach me how to make biscuits. My mother made excellent pie crust but never saw her with biscuit dough. I don’t even remember eating biscuits at home except at Christmas when we had country ham for breakfast. The Saunders ate biscuits every day. Chief and I did too. I know you could tell by looking at our chubby selves! I’d freeze them so he could take out how many he wanted each day for his breakfast. Have to admit though, when I discovered Mrs. B made biscuits…

Chief cooked dinner once for me when we were writing a long feature story on Russell’s history. We hadn’t been working together very long. He took me home with him so we could have a break. We had sardines and chili on toast. I loved it! One of my brothers laughed when I told him this and then he said, “You must have really loved him to eat that!”

Don’t knock it till you try it! Toast your bread, slap two sardine fillets on top, and cover with chili. I’m telling you, it’s so good!