I expect the same call on the 23rd of December every year, and this is how it goes:
*ring ring*
Me: Hello
Frantic, frazzled, harried mom: Hi honey, how are you?
Me: Oh, hi Mom. I'm good, how's it going?
FFHM: Oh, good, except...Oh, I forgot the ham.
Me: Of course you did.
FFHM: Could you go down to the Honey Baked Ham Store and get me their biggest* ham?
Me: *sighing* Sure, Mom.
FFHM: Ok, just remember, I want their BIGGEST* ham! Thank you! I love you!
Me: You're welcome! I love you too!
*Note that the greatest number of adults we've had at Christmas dinner in the past few years has been something like, oh, 7. And there's a turkey. And all the sides. And a few pies. And a roast leg of beast, or somejunk. We really, REALLY don't need the BIGGEST ham.
Anyway, I pack myself up and get myself to the Honey Baked Ham Store.
And I get in line.
Oh yeah, I'm totally standing outside. Because it's December 23, and everyone and their mom (except mine!) is picking up their ham. But look, the line, it MOVES. It moves QUICKLY. It moves so fast it's line Disneyland on crack. I finally get in and my eyes can hardly believe what they are seeing. The hams are flying so fast they're almost being launched from the arms of the employees into the still-chapped hands of the ham-needers. I get to the counter with the speed of a cheetah on Dexatrim, and I blurt out, "Ineedyourbiggestham,please!" but my request goes unheeded. Only hearing "ham" the, by now, automaton of an employee just hands me a ham as one behind me asks if I'd like chutney - which I get every year and which no one eats.
And hey, that ham is tasty. That is the best ham out there, and I don't like ham. Their turkey is some kind of glazed gift from a benevolent God it was easier to pretend didn't exist anymore. The wait in the line is worth it, although their efficiency invariably leads to lack of hearing.
It's a holiday plight no one's thought of.
(Kudos to my mom for doubtlessly laughing at this although I tease her. She knows she the best.)