The Great Molasses Shortage or, How I Saved Christmas

Here we go. Monday, December the 21st, which means it’s almost go-time. Time to put up or shut up. The house is starting to take shape for the arrival of four kids and three dogs. It has been thoroughly vacuumed and dusted. The beds have been made. Today, feeling magnanimous, I have volunteered to clean all three bathrooms. Why? Well, so I don’t look so totally worthless in comparison to my wife who has been flying around here like a whirling dervish for weeks. Today, I’m thinking she will be baking all day or something equally labor intensive. In between pulling delectable things out of the oven, she will be fretting over the details of her idea of a virtual music concert/talent show called Family Fest 2020 to be held the day after Christmas. Once she gets that squared away, she will turn her anxious thoughts to how best to orchestrate a family photo session with a professional photographer—a special gift given to us by sweet Bernadette—for some time while the kids are home. Color schemes and shoot locations don’t just decide themselves, you know! Of course then there’s the planning of Christmas dinner and all the other menus for the week. So yeah, the least I can do is scrub a few toilets.

Actually, my role here is more important than it would appear to the casual observer. I am usually the one who volunteers to take each of the three dogs outside for their morning, afternoon and evening constitutionals. Consequently, each of the pups knows who loves them the most. It’s Pops! I am also the one organizing the betting pool for the week. Question: Which dog will be the first to throw up? On what surface? Currently odds stand as follows: Frisco 6:1–carpet upstairs.  Jackson 10:1–hardwood floor dining room. Lucy 25:1 tile floor our bathroom. Of course, separate pools have to be set for peeing and pooping, as well as over and under for total accidents, and a special long shot bet on probability of no accidents at all...currently at 250:1. 

I have one more indispensable job around here...Pam’s designated shopper. Just last night, my skills were brought to bear on a tragedy that had the potential to ruin Christmas entirely. Pam had run out of...Grandma’s Molasses...and what was worse was the fact that our Publix was out of stock!! I don’t have to tell you how tragic this would have been. No Grandma’s Molasses means no Molasses Krinckles, no gingerbread whoopie-pies, no gingerbread cake. In other words...no love. So, I girded my loins and hit the road around 5:00 am last night. First Stop...Food Lion. I quickly found the baking goods aisle, scanned the shelves for the distinctive burnt yellow wrapper. Instead, I found a big empty space on the shelf where molasses should have been. Next stop...the John Rolfe Publix, where I found an equally empty shelf. But, out of the corner of my eye I spied a rather rotund and completely bored out of his mind stock boy in his pea green vest looking like he would rather be literally anywhere in the universe other than the baking goods aisle. I approached him with this disarming line, “Look pal...this is the third store I have been to looking for molasses. How about you check out the back room to see if you have any in reserve.” then I winked at him slyly and offered the hook, “I’ll make it worth your while...” He shuffled to the back room with even more listless disregard. Ten minutes later he emerged, walking towards me with an even slower shuffle, small cardboard box in hand, looks at me with complete and total nonchalance and muttered, “you’re in luck.” I grabbed the box...”Give me that!” I snapped. There in the bottom of the box were the last two bottles of Grandma’s Molasses in all of Short Pump...

Christmas was saved! 

But before I can turn my attention solely to all things Christmas, I must clean up the last remaining details at work. Today I have a few hours left at the office, then I’m done for the year. After I wrap up the business year I will head out to get Pam’s stocking stuffers. Something tells me I will go overboard.