Monday, August 18th, 2008
Christmas time. One of my favorite times of the year. I was going to spend Christmas Eve with Omar’s family. It was our first Christmas together. I wanted to make a good impression on his family and being that they were Italian, I thought it a perfect idea to bring Italian sausage as a contribution to their family gathering.
That morning, I woke up early so I could accomplish everything I needed to do. I visited with my family for a bit and helped my mom do some baking. Went to Calandro’s because supposedly they have the best Italian sausage in town. Finished wrapping presents; baked a few dozen cookies; got ready for the dinner party.
While I was getting ready, his mom stopped over to borrow a few serving dishes. I was so excited about my idea to bring the Italian sausage that I just couldn’t keep it a secret from her.
She wants to try a little taste, so I tell her it’s in the fridge. She opens the fridge door and says, “All I see is the sausage still in the package.” And my response, all bubbly, was something along the lines of…I know-I thought it’d be easier to just slice it when I got there, but feel free to open it and have as much as you want.
She was confused at first, but then couldn’t control her laughter when she realized that since I don’t eat pork, I didn’t realize you were supposed to actually cook it.
That’s right. I almost brought raw sausage to their Christmas Eve party. That definitely would have made a lasting impression alright.