Thanksgiving cake

We had been planning to celebrate both Thanksgiving and my niece-in-law's birthday on Saturday. But my wife got a call at 6:00 telling her that Joanne's birthday party would be held tonight, now, 7:00 on Thursday, in one hour. I was on my way home anticipating a supper of steak and pizza and unaware of the change. I was not receptive at all to this change. My wife, a 9-year veteran of dealing with me griping about eating anything, anytime at her folk's house, played the only card guaranteed to shut my mouth and make me act civilly - a promise that we would be in and out within one hour.

Hour 1 - We have been waiting the arrival of, well, everybody except my mother and father-in law. Joanne, her mother, bro and sis-in-laws are absent. A little strange considering everyone except sis-in-law lives there. Pops hears JinMen mentioned on the TV and starts on his tale of being denied the opportunity to be stationed there during the '49 invasion attempt and the '58 bombardment.

Hour 2 - Joanne and her mother arrive. Sis and Bro do not. It's best not to ask questions, even in English, about them. Sis is estranged and semi-homeless. Bro is just deranged and completely hopeless. We decide to start without them. We do not decide to do anything about it, though. The table remains empty. Conversation does not flow. It drips - occasionally. Only Pops keeps up his end of the conversation, though I can't understand much of his JiangSu accent. My wife pretends she can't either and can't / won't translate (still on about JinMen and some colonel, I think.

Hour 3 - I must of dozed off. The table is filled. Finally! Pears, apples, persimmons and vegetarian crab. I think this explains my anything, anytime position quite well. However, Joanne is there and her wonderful laugh and beautiful smile make me abandon my selfishness. We bring the cake / main course to the table and let Joanne blow out her candles. Thank God for Joanne not dawdling, for if she waited a few seconds more, we all would be dead.

There was another blow out that followed Joanne's, my mother-in-law's. Seated around a low table, she remained standing to my right. What she let pass - no, pass does not convey the true brute explosive force that erupted from her backside - was the truest, most accurate instance of onomatopoeia I have ever witnessed - FART. Like a flash/bang grenade, her outburst left my speechless and immobile, much to my horror. As she was standing and I was sitting, my face was just inches away from ground zero. Only Pops had the foresight to station himself in the corner of the room at his desk. As quickly as possible , though still much too slowly - I stood and passed the browned fruit and locked myself in the bathroom while I used every type of cleanser there to rid me of the attack. Whether they worked or not is moot. In my mind, I keep hearing the phrase, Odor is particulate. Odor is particulate and am afraid nothing can scour my mind well enough. Well, maybe a lot of Gold Medals or some Gao Liang.