A Fluffer Nutter Christmas...

“Curses”, I grumble to myself as the private jet lifts off the runway. I should be heading South towards the warm waters of the Caribbean not North towards ice storms and power outages and sub-freezing temperatures! I wasn’t joking over the summer when I told my boss that I’d charge him double for making me come out to the Midwest in wintertime.

I put on my iPod, pull the soft, cashmere blanket over my body and recline my overstuffed leather seat to a completely horizontal position and pray that when I wake the plane will have veered off course and the sky will be clear and below me will be a warm azure sea.

No luck.

I wake up a few hours later. The plane is preparing to land. Out my window, the sun is trying furiously to penetrate the ash-grey cloud cover. It looks like a war zone outside, but apparently the weapon of choice for this war was 100,000,000,000 gallons of Fluffer Nutter and a snow blower. The skeletons of poplars and birch trees scar the landscape. Thick dollops of white cream cling to the barren tree branches and coat the rooftops. The violet and green fields that I remember from summertime are now frozen solid and hidden beneath two feet of thick, white fluff.

“Welcome home, Cookie!” my bosses exclaim as I step off of the plane into the hangar. We exchange big, warm hugs. The pilot puts my bags into the bosses’ car and I climb in, “see you at the Christmas party, Cookie”, the pilot says as he shuts my door and Mrs. and Mr. X and I get on our way.

Despite my grumbling, I do actually find these alien surroundings quite spectacular. The icicles on the tree branches sparkle as they blow in the crisp, cold wind. We drive down Main Street in this Rockwellian little village. The storefronts and light posts decked in Christmas lights, garland and bows. A giant Christmas trees stands four stories tall in the town center and is decorated in ornaments hand made by the local school children. The snow brings stillness to everything, a sense of peace and quiet. But of course, there is one nagging thought in my head that shatters the magical silence – this one thought that becomes very, very loud…

I prepared for almost everything for this trip; a new winter coat, a few soft, snuggly sweaters which I have not had to own in years since I’ve always been in the Caribbean in the winter time, gloves. I even bought shoes that cover my toes! But wouldn’t you know it? I only own two pair of socks! Two THIN pairs of socks at that! “Aw crud”, I say to myself. Despite my best efforts, my toes are still going to freeze…

We pull up to the house. “You’ll be proud of me, Cookie. I haven’t had any Cheese Whiz since this summer!”. Yeah right, I’ll believe it when I see it. So, of course, I get inside, drop my bags and search the cupboards and refrigerator – and to my amazement there is not a can to be found anywhere in the house! No Ready Whip either! Huh, imagine that? I don’t even want to get him a can as a joke now because I know he’ll eat it. “Good job, Mr. X! I’m proud of you. I’m very, very proud of you”. “Hey Cookie, will you make pigs in blankets for the Christmas party?”. THUNK, I smack my forehead with the palm of my hand, “sure, Mr. X. No problem, I’ll make you pigs in blankets. Yellow hot dog mustard and Heinz ketchup with that?”, “yes ma’am!”.

“Cookie, will you make truffled chicken liver pate for the Christmas party?”, Mrs. X asks as she hands me a large and expensive jar of Italian White Truffle cream.

There is a God.