Let’s pretend that you, my possibly mythical audience, have asked me how my Christmas was. Bless your heart. Well, I spent Christmas morning at my house with my family. We opened gifts, ate cinnamon rolls, and groggily drank hot chocolate. It was fabulous! (She said while dramatically gesticulating until her feather boa slips off from around her neck.) Man, I’m narrating again. Somebody go get me some coffee. But back to the topic at hand.
This Christmas was the first one in years, my parents had to wake me up. First, it was because I didn’t know what Christmas was, but once I had established that Christmas is Christmas, I would wake up so early, that it was still, by most standards, nighttime. About age twelve, when I started needing more sleep, I still thought I was waking up on my own, when really my younger cousin was making a good deal of noise, and I couldn’t help but wake up. And then, once I had remembered it was Christmas, I would forget entirely that I was mad at him and get very very excited. This year though, my Mom came into my room at six o’clock, and told me to get up already. She and dad had been up for hours. The role reversal was kind of hilarious.
After we had exchanged gifts and eaten breakfast, we got dressed and drove up to mom’s hometown. It was a three hour drive, but traffic was good, because by Christmas day, most people have gotten where they want to go, and would like to stay there.
Once we got there, it was nearly lunchtime, and in our family, we do Christmas lunch, not Christmas dinner. As is the tradition, it was the four of us (Me, Dad, Mom, and V, in case you weren’t paying any attention), my two grandparents, my aunt, uncle, and cousin, and my great-aunt, all sitting around the small to middling dining room table. That meant four people (of which I was one) have to sit with a leg of the table between their knees, forcing their legs under someone else’s seat. And the three youngest people (me, my cousin, and V) get to sit jammed between the table and the breakfront. It might not be the best system, but it’s Christmas, and regardless of our seating arrangement, I think we were all really glad to be there. Before desert, all courtesy was forgotten, and presents were remembered. I got some Christmas money from my grandparents, and another silver ornament. (I know what some of you are thinking; An ornament. Really? Lame! But to you, I say, shut your mouth. You haven’t seen it. I love the ornaments my grandmother gives me. Okay, maybe when I was seven I didn’t really appreciate them, but now I do. My grandmother has great taste, and they really are lovely. Plus, I love the idea of having so many ornaments by the time I have a family of my own.)
I also got a pair of adorable earrings from my aunt, uncle, and cousin, and some money from my great-aunt. In some cases, I love getting the amount of money the present would have cost, rather than the present itself. I know there are some people that say that isn’t personal, and they don’t like it, but frankly, that way I can have the pleasure of shopping, plus something I know I’ll enjoy. But I get that I won’t be winning any debates with that one.
I haven’t written a lot lately, but I did try to post a couple days ago while still visiting my family, and I might as well show you how poorly I write on little sleep. Could be fun:
Another Christmas has come and gone, and now there’s the new year to look forward too. I can hardly believe it will be 2011 in four days. I’m sitting in a grocery store in my Mom’s home town. All four of us are sitting around a little table at the star bucks, enjoying the Internet connection rarely found in the little town. Back at the house, my grandmother and aunt are probably running around trying to get everything ready for the twenty or so people that we are somehow related to. There’s going to be a reunion of sorts at one thirty.
I may regret that. Too soon to tell. I don’t know if I’ll post again between now and New Year’s so just in case, have a happy new year everybody!