Jordon Almonds: Part 2

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Jordon Almonds: Part 2
Apr. 12, 2003

It was the day of my brother’s surprise wedding reception. Oh. Sure. His wife had hoped and dreamed that they would plan this big day together, but my brother had trouble committing to the exact date of the party. So. She decided to go ahead and surprise him by inviting everyone he knew, and leaving a suit out on his bed.

“How are we celebrating our one year anniversary?” He asked, ever probing, ever investigating.

“Be ready at five thirty.” She answered. “Remember to wash behind your ears.”

We all had this incredible fear that he would be called away, once again, to active duty before his big surprise.

He called her the night before. We had just finished eight hours of hard core never ending celebration hall decorating. “Honey. Sorry to ruin whatever wonderful surprise anniversary plans that you have made for us. I just received my orders. I am being shipped out first thing in the morning.” He lied.

“Good thing.” She said. “I don’t think I could stand to see your sorry face on our anniversary.” She really was tired. All those lights had to be strung from the ceiling.

“Just kidding.” He said. “I wouldn’t miss this surprise for the world.”

“Oh. Well. Then I guess I was kidding too.” She lied. She really was tired.

I got to the party early enough to find the bride’s friend, Donna, was already collecting almonds. She had challenged me to a small competition insisting that she could gather more Jordon almonds than I could by the end of the evening. Yeah. No. I wasn’t worried. There was plenty of time. But first, I had relatives whom I hadn’t seen since the last family wedding, five year’s ago.

“Holly. You are taller!” Uncle Richard insisted. It occurred to me that he had been using that same line now for about thirty years.

“So are you, Uncle Richard!” I said, living through another bear hug.

There were nephews in suits who felt dorky and nieces in high heels who felt womanly and babies being passed back and forth between whomever was standing closest to the corn chips.

I found that the spinach dip was the perfect place to socialize and had a great conversation with a guy from my old neighborhood about the games of hide and go seek that we used to play as kids. Man. We used the whole mountain as our territory. I know. It was hard work to seek in those days.

All of my brother’s friends were there. It was strange to see them grown up and married. They still looked like little kids who were about to go out and play a game of kick ball to me. No. I didn’t tell them that. They said that I looked all New York. How could I tell them they looked all Kick Ball?

My brother the “groom” and his wife the “bride” showed up. He was incredibly happy to have this surprise so wonderfully planned out. He wouldn’t have expected a thing if his good friend hadn’t stopped by for directions at the last minute. Yeah. I know. Seems to me that the guy you are trying to surprise might not know the details of the party. I know. I know. His friend didn’t think of that. Yeah. But. At least his friend found his way there, right?

We sat down for dinner and I once again remembered why I am so lucky to be a part of my family. Oh. Yes. Our amazing parents. And I do have wonderful siblings. But. Really. This family knows how to do food in a way that other families can only dream about. No kidding. We breed gourmet cooks in this family. Well. I mean. Except for me. That gourmet gene missed me.

But. The food at this wedding ranged from tender prime rib right on down to homemade manicotti and everything there was the best of the best. At first people were being polite because they didn’t understand that there were backup platters in the kitchen. Once they figured it out, man they started piling their plates leaning tower style.

And. The cake. There have been so many weddings in this family that my mother long ago mastered wedding cakes. This one was a lemon poppy seed cake. Believe me. You can’t buy a cake like this anywhere on earth. It is too moist with real icing and an amazing lemon filling. People who weren’t invited to the wedding sadly wanted to know what kind of cake they missed. Really. Her cakes are so good that people try to get invited just for the dessert, which is wholly wrong, unless they are bringing big gifts, right?

The preteens insisted that I had to dance with them. They said that they needed someone who wasn’t afraid to look stupid out on the dance floor. Yeah. I know. But. I felt the need to encourage social inappropriateness at family functions. Besides. When else can you dance the bump and the slide and disco at the same time? (They swear this is the rage…)

During one of my best dance moves someone threw a Jordon almond at me. At first I ignored the gesture, cause in my years of teaching I have learned to pretend not to notice flying food. But. Then I remembered. I was supposed to be collecting the unwanted almonds. I had a challenge to win.

I had been too busy. Donna had quite a collection going. Great. I stole her almonds. I heard a little scream come from the dance floor as she hiked up her skirts and started working the room. Clearly she planned on leaving no unclaimed almonds untouched.

I casually called over to a few nephews. “Hey. Boys. How many boxes of almonds do you think you can supply me with in the next two minutes?” I asked, feeling a bit like a Godmother figure in an Aunt’s dress.

“Aunt Holly, do you know who you are talking to?” They asked eagerly, happy to be trusted with such an important goal.

At the end of the evening Donna and I were comparing the take, when a surge of guests lined up in front of me. It seems that Donna had made a very creative last ditch effort to win our bet. I was impressed. She had conned the guests into depleting my stash.

“Holly. Could I have some almonds? I didn’t get any.” Guest after guest asked.

“Sure.” I said, handing away box after box. “I got SO MANY. Let me SHARE some with you.”

I gave away as many as I could to any guest who asked, while Donna snickered greedily from behind her daughter.

“Oh. You feeling brave back there?” I asked.

But. I still had the most almonds. I know. I was still the winner. I know. Puzzling. But true.

Now. I know that you are wondering what I did with my winnings. Well. I kept one box for a late night snack, and filled Donna’s daughter’s pockets with the extras. I gave her daughter these explicit directions:

“Give these winning Jordon almonds to your mom when you get home. Tell her they will help her dry her sad, losing tears.”

About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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