Hasn’t it been a long-ish time?
Do you really want to hear about our Christmas? Because it seems like it happened a thousand years ago. Or at least last year. And I feel like I’ve already talked it to death on the back porch with A.
Here’s a list of things related to this year’s Christmas:
1. Hand-made wooden rocking horse for Bird, handiwork by Grandpa Snee.
2. A’s declaration of feeling strangely like only a half-adult around his parents, me pointing out that he received a remote-control helicopter as his centerpiece gift.
3. Horseballs, the game. We own a set. A set of horse balls. Wanna come over?
4. Christmas in the mid-south vs. Christmas in Central Indiana:
- Pros: no travel, no packing, no paying the dog lady, no buying gas, no squishing a thousand presents in one car that was already full on the way up. No back-and-forth between my family and A’s family (it IS a big deal, they’re 30 minutes apart). No cold weather. No taking vacation days. Actually having a Christmas tree.
- Cons: It felt like totally fake Christmas. Not cold (freakishly warm, in fact), definitely not snowy. No catching up with college friends who are also home for the holidays. No lazing around at my mom’s house. No reading other people’s magazines and using fancy shampoo.
- All that stuff on the cons list? That’s all part of the holiday tradition for A. and I. That’s just how it’s always been. And when you take all of that away and insert the Christmas into our house, it feels so much different. Plus, I didn’t exactly feel like the Christmas guests arrived with an open mind about the changing of tradition, but damn, we travel every mothereffing year. One year it took us fifteen hours to drive one way in a snow storm, including a closed interstate, an overnight stay, dogs on an elevator, and overpriced burritos and beer in bed in a hotel room on Christmas Eve. (actually, those last two were okay.) We deserved a break from traveling, we got it, and it didn’t feel the same. Game over.
5. A. and I got Bird a grocery cart, and my brother and his fiancee got her a little table and chairs. Both huge hits.
6. S. and S. visiting from Spokane with the cutie boys. Spent an afternoon walking to the fire station and the coffee shop, playing in the living room, pretending like they live here.
7. (Snapshot of a Marriage) A. got underwear from his parents, as he does every year (see “not feeling like an adult“, item 1), and they were these high-end Nordstromy boxer briefs with several buttonholed buttons (why? are you going to unbutton those teensy buttons? Are you going to unbutton them half way and let your banana fruit cup peek from your undies? Are you going to layer underneath with a different color?) and all kinds of high-falootin’ packaging. Packaging which featured an image of this guy. So for almost a full week now, A. has been talking about the “Alfani Man.” Declaring himself an “Alfani Man.” Talking about what is and is not suitable for an “Alfani Man.” Do you think an Alfani Man cleans out the cat box? Think again, friends! Is it inappropriate for a wife to get herself a piece of pie and coolwhip and not prepare a similar plate for an Alfani Man? Yes! It is wholly inappropriate! It has come down to a (and I am not kidding here) serious sit-down conversation about how the Alfani Man jokes are OVER and need to STOP RIGHT NOW.
8. That reminded me of something from the gigantic Family Hoo Haa at the cabins a couple of weeks ago: A. and his cousins talked about patenting the Booze-iere, which would be a bra with compartments for liquid– like a water bra but made for sneaking booze into the Kentucky Derby. (inspired by an incident this year involving ziplock baggies). They decided, being enterprising young gentlemen, that they should invent one for men, also, called the “cock-tail.” It’s clever, no?