December 25, 2008

pah rum pum pum pum!


What time did you wake up this morning?
What did you get for Xmas?
Did you get everything you wished for?
Did your mother/father/sibling/significant other/friend/collegue enjoy your gift?
What sort of meal did you have today?
Was your family well behaved or quarrelsome?
Were you alone today?
Did you feel "uplifted" or "filled with warmth" or did you feel neutral and maybe a little bit hungry?
What did you wear today?
Did you call people to tell them "Happy Christmas I love you"?
Good!


As expected, I rose at noon and lumbered downstairs to a kitchen with my mother frantically cooking 4.5 dishes at once. She glided around the kitchen in her flannel teddy bear pajamas, encouraging my father to get all of the mail and newspapers and magazines off the dining room table. All year, that table is covered in periodicals, envelopes, car keys, and other bits. Except on Christmas day, when in preparation for a family gathering, it is swept clean, tableclothed and the leaves are pulled up in anticipation for a feast.
Despite my holiday misgivings and immediate grogginess, there was still that electric energy abound in my veins that somehow sparked every December 25th. Faint, but there. We didn't even have a tree up. We haven't for the past three Christmases. It had only struck me that this was odd when I visited B a few days ago because I was randomly in her neighborhood. She was proud of her mini spruce, gifts beneath and all. I realized then that a lot of holiday cheer in my experience had been reliant on the lighting and ambiance. There's a certain kind of light that you only see around Christmas, most of it being supplied by tiny twinkling bulbs strung around shrubbery and the like. Magical. Our house perpetually has icicle lights lining the eaves of the roof and generally they remained off throughout the year, aside for the month of December. This month they remained off, my dad saying something about electricity and wires.

I was tempted to suggest we visit the ol Lutheran church that we hadn't been to for close to a decade now, as a family. For a novelty, why not. I thought it might be nice. But it was a fleeting thought. There was too much to cook and clean to go to some communal house of god worship. I also did not want to get out of my pajamas. Instead, I ate egg on toast and then shot at zombies with my brother on his xbox. Zombie slaughtering is very stressful, even if it is just the virtual kind. After twenty minutes I was perspiring and my nerves were fried and I had to get dressed for company.

My mom enjoyed the cd and vest she received and my dad was most likely pleased with his wallet [he is a licensed stoic so I recognize that a series of firm nods are a sign of positive reassurance], and my brother was very pleased with the jacket I picked out for him, opting to wear it out tonight. A modest success!

I have a pile of cash on my desk and an offer from my mother for an xma$ shopping trip.

I spent the evening eating food, watching The Incredibles, and browsing t-shirt blogs and e-commerce sites on my macbook in the living room, so as to be participating in "family time." Which just means that we're all in the same room together. Whether we are bonding is neither here nor there. I am coming to accept the fact that my family time consists of quantity time, not quality time. The quiet is comforting actually.



These are examples of two t-shirts I found to be very savory:

Perhaps a fraction of this cash stash will go towards purchasing these anomalies. But probably not. They go in the Things I Like but Wouldn't Know What to Do With it if I Owned it catagory. For someone who loves t-shirts so much, I don't actually wear very many of them, despite owning several.

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