The holidays are upon us, kiddies, and I'll be heading back East to see the fam.
We always seem to have a full-blown family fight right before Christmas Eve dinner, which is always a roast tenderloin. My mom stomps out and walks the dog in her moon boots and my grandmother says "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" alot, and the phone always rings, and everyone gets quiet as to appear to have been enjoying a lovely storytelling by the fire when the phone rang. We all make up and eat and my mom and I drink whiskey and diet ginger ale and my grandmother talks about 'bourbon' and how she doesn't like it. But she'll have one anyway. Then we talk about how perfect the tree is that year, and the dog picks a bone to chew, and we open a gift and talk about the ornaments and how funny it was that I got kicked out of Brownies for the birdseed one. Christmas at my house also consists of lots of greenery in the house- the place is like fucking Sherwood Forest. My mom makes a 1970s era Strawberry Jello salad thing that rules. We all wake up, eat breakfast and open gifts. I get my mom electronics that she doesn't understand, she gets me electronics that she doesn't understand and we get my grandmother things made of fleece and licorice. I love Christmas, and I love my weird little family.