Notes: A completely random question, but am I the only one besides Grissom that loves calamari?

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--Chapter 7: Just a little shove...--

December 23, 1:30 p.m.

To talk, or not to talk; that is the question.

Okay, so the question is really more like who do I want to talk to first, but I just felt like writing that. Must be Uncle Gil rubbing off on me; he's always quoting Shakespeare or something along those lines.

Since Mom is in the house with me right at this moment, I guess it would make more sense to talk to her. But she just got up, and I don't want to catch her when she's in a bad mood or anything. That would just completely ruin things.

I think-

Sweet, my computer just told me that I have e-mail.

Well, of course, it didn't really tell me; it just made the noise I have it programmed to make. Just a little dinging noise; most of the other choices were extremely annoying.

Anyway, to get back to what I was saying: I think I'll wait for Cassandra to e-mail me back before I ask Mom.

Okay, so maybe I'm procrastinating just a little, but hey, wouldn't you? Well, maybe not, since you're kind of a book.

Great. Now I'm actually talking to my journal instead of just writing things in it.

I think I'm going to go check that e-mail now.

30 minutes later

No, it did not take me twenty minutes to read one e-mail. I got a little distracted, and checked out a couple of my friends' Xangas, as well.

Then I might have read a couple one-shot fics about my favorite TV show.

But I am not putting anything off, really! I mean, there's no reason to. Why should I; I talked her into the Trans-Siberian Orchestra date...er, "outing." So why should I be nervous about this?

Okay, so there's a slim possibility of her seeing right through me, but I don't think she will. She will probably be entirely too caught up thinking about what she's going to wear after she agrees.

I hope.

Anyway, the e-mail was from Cassandra, and she can't make it. She has other plans. Dang, we could have had a lot of fun with this. But, of course, Trevor and I can too.

And we will.

Now, I have to go talk to Mom.

December 23, 7 p.m.

Dang it.

Dang it.

Dang it.

I didn't talk to Mom at all today.

Well, we said hi, and the usual informing her of where I was going to go and when I was going to be back; but I didn't discuss what I really wanted to discuss with her.

Cassandra called five minutes after my last entry and wanted to know if I could go to the movies with her and a couple other friends.

Unfortunately, Trevor wasn't going to be there, but I said yes anyway.

So I went to the movies, and we had a great time.

Now I am to the good point in my day.

I did talk to Uncle Gil.

Here, I will write out basically what happened while I still remember it.

I got to his office a little after five, and, as usual, he was there. Thank goodness, I got lucky again, and he was just doing paperwork.

"Hey, Uncle Gil." I said, upon walking into the office.

"Hi, Lindsey." He replied, removing his glasses and setting them on the desk. "And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"I was thinking..."

This is always a good starter line with him.

"Yes?"

"I was thinking...will you have dinner with Mom on Christmas Eve?" He looked taken aback for a moment.

"Not as a date, or anything." I rushed on before he could say anything. "I just mean to make up for the concert that you guys didn't get to go to."

"That's actually a very good idea, Lindsey."

Woah. Did he just say what I thought he said? He was going to make it that easy?

"Really?" I guess my shock showed in my voice because he smiled.

"Yes, really. Your mother and I do go out on occasion, you know. And Christmas Eve is a special time."

"Cool. And I kind of already made arrangements at Emma's. Is that alright?"

He looked slightly surprised that I had done that, but he didn't comment on it.

"Of course. I have been there a few times myself. They serve excellent calamari."

"Great. Mom will see you there, then."

I turned towards the door.

"Lindsey?"

Darn it, I knew this was going too well to be true. I slowly turned back around.

"Yeah?"

"Tell your Mother I said 'Hi.'"

I felt the relief course through my body, and tried not to let it show in my voice.

"I will."

And with that, I hurried out of there as quickly as possible. Well, I didn't go too fast, so as not to raise suspicion, but I didn't exactly dawdle either.

And that was how I convinced one Gil Grissom to go out with my Mom on Christmas Eve.

Now all I had to do was get Mom there as well, otherwise it would turn out to be a pretty sucky date.

December 24, 3:40

At the moment, I am sitting inside a quiet bookstore at the mall while Mom is getting her hair done.

Just a trim and a shampoo, but it sure is taking a long time. We were supposed to meet here ten minutes ago.

Oh, there she is.

"Hey, Mom!" I said, rising from the chair.

"Hi, Linds. Sorry I'm late; got distracted." She said with a sheepish smile as she motioned toward the bag she was carrying.

"What'd you get?" I asked as we left the bookstore, and went strolling through the numerous other people.

Really, I don't know what possessed us to go to the mall on Christmas Eve. The place was an absolute zoo.

"One of those red sweaters that were on sale in Emily's Boutique."

I threw a fake scowl at her. "Hey! I wanted one of those! Only the one with the three-quarter sleeve, not the full."

She threw a grin at me. "And that's exactly what you got." She said, pulling out a black sweater in my size, exactly as I had described it.

"Awesome! Thanks!" Some girls would practically die before letting their Mom pick out their clothes, but mine actually has pretty good fashion sense.

Except when it came to that one shirt I really, really wanted...but I won't go into that.

"So, Mom." I started. Now was as good of time as any.

"Would you like to meet Uncle Gil at Emma's for dinner tonight at 8:30? Not on a date or anything, just for a quiet meal to celebrate the Holiday season and your friendshiop?"

'The holiday season and your friendship?' Geez, I sounded like a Hallmark commercial.

She threw a questioning glance at me, and we walked on towards the exit, barely avoiding hitting one lady who rushed in with a cell phone to her ear, not watching where she was going.

"Yes, I would, but why on earth would you ask that?"

Umm...

"Because Uncle Gil wants you to?" I asked hopefully.

"And exactly how do you know this?" This was why I kept putting off asking her. I knew she would suspect something.

"Because he told me."

We were finally outside, walking a ridiculously long way to get to the Denali. It wasn't really all that cold, but I knew it would be that night.

"When did he tell you?"

"Yesterday."

"Then why didn't he ask me when we were at work?"

Oops.

"He probably forgot. You've told me how he gets when he's working."

I don't really think that answer satisfied her, but she let it go.

She had said yes, though, and that was the important thing.

TBC...