NATIONAL EGGNOG DAY

It's Christmas Eve. It's also National Eggnog Day. 

I was in the kitchen thinking about my mom. She was such the holiday bunny. To her, certain things were just supposed to happen simply because it was Christmastime. 

It's a little chilly, cloudy, and rainy today. It's the kind of day that, if she were still alive, there would have been some homemade eggnog on the stove, and a large ladle resting nearby. I didn't even like eggnog, but I had no problem drinking my mom's. Hers was the only eggnog I would drink. On cold days, it was heavenly.

I was looking at the shiny silver pot she always used, and thinking about the work involved. I could pull out the big glass punch bowl and the dainty cups. "I've got eggs. I could make some", I thought. Did I feel like it, though? Nah. It was a nice thought. All ambition. (My daughter recently gave me a litre carton of Paul hot chocolate. I guess it's not a crime to drink hot chocolate on National Egg Nog Day. Besides, it's already made.) I could just reminisce about Mommy.
If I have some egg nog today, store-bought it will be--but not the liquor store. That year was funny. Mommy had been so naive and sweet.
I'd come to visit and recognized the aroma, but there was something different about it-- not the usual McCormick vanilla extract smell, but more pungent. She was at the stove slowly and steadily stirring.
I picked up the empty, fancy, quart carton that was on the counter.
"What's this?"
"Eggnog. We wanted some, but didn't feel like making any."
"Who gave this to you, Mommy?"
 "Well, the Giant didn't have any, and neither did 7-Eleven. I looked everywhere, so I went to the liquor store down the street and they had some. I just thought...I mean they sell milk and orange juice and sodas, don't they? It doesn't taste too good cold, though."
"Mommy, did you look at the carton before you decided to heat it up?"
"No. Why? I just put it in the pot. We had a little bit. I figured I'd heat up the rest of it. You should try it."
"You might want to look at the carton."
"What are you talking about? Where?"
"Look right here Mommy."
"Lord, have mercy! Thirty proof? No wonder it's so warm in here!"
"Well, Mommy, what did you expect from liquor store eggnog?"
"I just thought eggnog was eggnog!"

We laughed a long time about it--a really long time. I could just see my prissy mother walking her Easy Spirits into the liquor store, articulately asking the clerk where he kept his eggnog, and not being worried one bit if anyone saw her, because of course, she didn't drink, and her mission was quite innocent. She just wanted eggnog.

Mommy poured the rest down the drain, as if it was poison, and decided she wasn't too tired to make her own eggnog after all. She'd know for sure what was in it. It was worth it. Hers was frothier, creamier; prettier. It smelled wonderful, and wouldn't put everyone to sleep.