I had the absolute time of my life last Saturday night.
I say that even though to most of you reading this - the 'folks on the outside' - what I'm about to describe will sound perfectly vanilla; a normal family get-together.
It was a pre-Christmas get-together with my uncle Dale, who's Alberta-bound for Christmas. Dale is facing his first Christmas without his wife of more than 55 years, Lois, who passed in February of this year. I like to think that we helped him get through a bit of emotional turmoil he may have been going through, but perhaps I'm not the right guy to answer that question.
We prepared supper, which of course had a turkey at the center of it, surrounded by stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, cranberries, salad, buns, and there was even a dish supplied by the late, great Lynda Ruttle. For probably about two years now, there was a frozen casserole dish in the downstairs fridge at the house in Conquest. Contained within that ceramic and glass dish were the things that grown men have fought over and women across every province have swooned over - my mom's homemade cabbage rolls.
I heated them in the oven, and I'll tell ya, one bite into one of those and you're instantly transported to the family kitchen table during any one of the holidays in which we enjoyed them. It could be Christmas, it could be Thanksgiving, it could be Easter, or it could even be just a particularly special Sunday. They're just that good.
It wasn't lost on any one of us that these cabbage rolls represented the final prepared cuisine of Lynda Ruttle. While they were absolutely devine and represented years of memories enjoyed at that kitchen table at home, there was also something just underneath the surface that was a little bit sad and melancholy. This may sound bizarre, but the thought process was like once they were gone, then Mom was definitely gone with them, even though it's been more than a year and a half since Mom departed this world.
Funnily enough, I didn't get to enjoy any out at Dale's. There's only so much room on a dinner plate, and I didn't manage to fit any onto mine. It turns out that I, along with pretty much the rest of us, was full after only one heaping plate of food. I guess I'd have to wait to enjoy my mom's final prepared dish.
And enjoy them, I did. I sat down this week with two of them on a plate, piping hot the way that Mom prepared them. I'm not going to lie here; I looked up at the framed photo of Mom from her last Christmas with us and I couldn't help but smile and say, 'Thanks, Ma'. I could smell her effort, I could remember her meticulous kitchen methods. Each bite took me further and further back to when we were all kids, enjoying every dish she made and creation she concocted. You just can't help but feel a bit of sadness in that regard, but at the end of the day, or in this case at the end of the plate, they were just simply delicious and I enjoyed the memories that came from each bite.
Back at Dale's, as is typically the case with a bunch of men who've put in the work in the kitchen, we marvelled at the work we all carried out in preparing the meal, and then proceeded to not put a dent in any of it! Isn't that always the case though? You tell yourself that you're not going to have enough of this or enough of that, then before you know it, you're looking at enough food to feed probably 9-10 more people. Suffice to say, Brendon and I went back home with significant leftovers. Turkey sandwiches and soup tonight!
After supper, we went in the living room, watched some hockey, and just talked like normal human 小蓝视频s. No smartphone necessary. After that, we brought out the Uno cards, reminding Dale of the ins and outs of the cut-throat game that we Ruttles have played for years and years and years.....and years. He got the hang of it very quickly and proceeded to become a thespian of the game, presenting each haunting +4 card or jabbing +2 card with elegance. If Uno wasn't enough, we brought out the game of Hearing Things. To everyone reading this column, I cannot overstate just how much fun this game is to play. The gist of it is simple: there's a pair of headphones with a button on the side, and there's a stack of cards. You pair off in partners for this game, and when it's your turn, your partner puts the headphones on and presses the side button. At that point, he/she can't hear anything except for the sounds of what sounds like New York City during rush hour. You, on the other hand, pick up a card that has a phrase on it. You look at your now-deaf partner and state the phrase. Your partner has no choice but to read your lips in order to try and determine what's written on the card.
People, please allow me to just repeat myself here. Hearing Things is the most fun, funniest, belly laugh-inducing time I'll probably ever have around a kitchen game table. Watching someone with the noisy headphones on try to come up with whatever their partner's saying to them is the kind of stuff that today's generation should be making videos of on YouTube. It really is that funny, I assure you. The key to this game is great enunciation and 小蓝视频 able to read lips correctly. If you can, hooray! More points for you! If you can't, well, it's hilarious to listen to the things that you hear from players.
Outside of the games, we blew up some fireworks outside, and oddly enough, the wind that had started earlier in the evening had died down by the time we decided to light up the winter night sky. Someone was watching out for us, maybe...?
Before we knew it, it was approaching 3:00 in the morning and I packed up some things to take home, wishing Dale well and a Merry Christmas. Minutes later, we were back here at the apartment and I looked back on the 12 hours that were spent out at the farm. I smiled when thinking of every moment.
That's the thing that I hope people are doing this holiday season. Stop every once in a while, remember the time shared with family and friends, reflect on it, and store it in your mind for further enjoyment at another time when you need something positive to remember.
Life's going by too fast already. It's important to stop and smell the proverbial roses once every blue moon or so.
For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.
