Thursday, December 24, 2009

Christmas Eve

“What the ____?!” You can fill in the blank but it really wasn’t SO bad. Michael opened the bathroom door, took one look at me, and kept on walking.

I suppose I could’ve sat down with his slippers and ripped out the stitching on the leather soles. There’s something about them I don’t like and I want to try again. Instead I grabbed a barstool and headed for the bathroom. I located my mom’s ancient curling iron and after a few minute’s wait proceeded to cover my head with ringlets. Hence Michael’s shocked reaction.

I’m not used to time on my hands.

Back in ye old days of yore (my childhood) I used to HATE Christmas Eve. “Is that even POSSIBLE?” you ask and the answer is a resounding “Absolutely”. Because Christmas Eve was HARD.

I would’ve loved a leisurely nothing-to-do kind of day way back when but what we had was the never-ending day of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. Mom was (and still is) known for her elaborate cookie plates filled with all sorts of gorgeous, delectable, Christmas confections. Almost too pretty to eat. She would fill and wrap many, many, many plates and we would pile in the car to make the deliveries. We’d go as far as Mercer Island and many stops in between. At each stop we would have to sit and visit and smile and be polite. As the day wore on there would be midnight mass to look forward to. Which I didn’t. Because for all of my childhood, I practiced the old Early to Bed, Early to Rise adage. Bed could not come soon enough. What I did like about Christmas Eve was opening a gift of homemade pajamas from Mom. That and Dad’s oyster stew. That was the good stuff. Now Dad drops off the cookie plates early and we get the luxury of having nothing in particular to do.

Michael and Michael Jr. are waiting for me to stop what I’m doing and go play football in the backyard. This is what I’m overhearing as they wander the hallway looking at all the old framed collages of each year:

“Man you were cute. Look Michael. Your mom was hot back then. Dang! Look at you. You look weird when you’re that skinny.”

Nice, huh? Yeah, I know, but it is. At least I’m pretty sure it is. And by the way, I wish YOU a Merry Christmas. I hope it’s the BEST yet.
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