Well, it's finally over. It's the time of year where I tend to eat too much, sleep too little and start drinking each afternoon. I am, of course, talking about The Holidays.
For your reading pleasure, I will now hit the highlights of a season so filled with familial drama, gift buying deception and intrigue, and boozy eggnog that it's a blessing that it only comes around once a year.
Thanksgiving:
I have the honor of sharing the week of my birthday each year with Thanksgiving. In the grand scheme of things, the holiday of over indulgence is not a bad one to be saddled with. Also, conveniently, C's birthday is a few days before Christmas, so the post-nuptial "How do we do parse out holiday time with the in-laws?" conversation ended up being a no-brainer.
So as expected, we ate far too much and drank cocktails all afternoon. I fried a turkey and spilled oil all over my brand new pants, but that was the only casualty of the day; except, of course, my recommended daily allowance of calories.
Christmas:
The in-laws have a very nice house on a lake in central Texas that we use as a gathering point for family events. They are a pretty far-flung bunch, spread from Washington state, to New Mexico, to New York City, so it is nice to a have a place large enough for everyone. The only problem is that no place is large enough for a family of five adults plus two husbands, except maybe the Grand Canyon. Although everyone has their own place to sleep, coexistence is a very real aspect of every other room in the house. And while family time is ostensibly the reason for the season, anyone born after 1975 knows that the real reason for the season is Nintendo. Getting new games as gifts and playing them for hours and hours a day is a holiday tradition that I take very seriously. The in-laws, however, would rather shear some sheep and make their own holiday sweaters. Or churn butter by hand. Or read by candle light. So after a week of installing new sinks, faucets, and drains, followed by hand washing the dishes after every meal, I was ready to get back to civilization.
Christmas eve, C's sister convinced us to attend services at the local Unitarian Church. Being Catholic my whole life, I'd never been to religious services at any non-Catholic institution, but I figured that all Christian services were all pretty much the same. My assumption was incorrect. In principle, I have no problem with the Unitarian views of religion: everyone is equal, everyone has the right to explore their own religious path, everyone deserves justice, peace and liberty, etc. But all this freedom and liberty creates a relaxed religious environment that I was very uncomfortable in. Children ran free while the minister told the story of the Unitarian church member who wrote "'twas the Night Before Christmas", some guy set up a camcorder to video tape the event, it was all very loose and unstructured. And that's fine for some people, I don't want to deprive them of that. My personal belief, though, is that like your cranky great-uncle Bob, God loves us, but doesn't particularly like us messing with his stuff. That's why there are so many rules governing your behavior when you are in his house.
New Year's Eve:
I got drunk at a concert and fell on my head trying to climb over a railing at the train station. The rest of the night is a blur, literally and figuratively, although I do distinctly remember my lovely wife laughing at me while I lay confused on the floor. Thanks, honey.
New Year's Day:
The wife and I have a tradition of stockpiling supplies in the week leading up to the 1st of January so that we will have no cause to leave the house for the entire day. Like preparing for a zombie attack, or a blizzard, we fill the fridge with any food item that we might possibly feel like eating during the 24 hour stretch between December 31 and January 2. We did pretty well this year. We certainly didn't leave the house, not even to take me to the hospital to have me examined for a concussion. Late in the day, we wanted to make a chocolate cake, but didn't have enough sugar.
Make a note for next year.
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