Ho, Ho, Ho: A Preview, Part III

Christmas Day is not nearly as eventful as Christmas Eve, unfortunately. In the morning, we exchange presents with my grandmother when we wake up and then get dressed and go to my aunt Lynne and uncle Larry's house, also in Fairfield. My aunt makes punch every year, which is everyone's favorite mostly because of the large quantities of alcohol in it. We have the standard hour or two of cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, most of which is spent keeping Larry's dog, Toby, from jumping on the coffee table to eat everything.

Once dinner rolls around and everyone is finally seated, every year we do Christmas Crackers. I'm pretty sure this is a British tradition, and I don't know where one would buy them, but every year somehow they end up on the table. In case you're not familiar, they look like this:



To crack them, you reach inside both ends, and yank on a string inside. In my family, we like to make things difficult. Everyone crosses their arms at the elbow and pulls one side of their own cracker and one side of the person next to them. If this sounds like it doesn't make any sense, it's because it doesn't. And usually there's about half that don't even make a good cracking sound, but just come apart with a pathetic little ripping sound. Inside, there is some kind of cheap plastic toy meant for a five year old but not safe for a five year old because it usually involves small parts. There also might be a little slip of paper with some nonsensical joke or riddle on it, which will then be debated over for the rest of the meal. And, of course, there are the tissue-paper crowns:



Notice how happy everyone looks.

That picture is from a few years ago, and I just realized that there are a lot of people missing from the table, but I don't know why. Anyway, we're required to wear the crowns for the entire meal. Yes, wearing these ridiculous tissue contraptions is mandatory. For what purpose? Your guess is as good as mine.

After another evening of copious amounts of food, we all retire back to the living room for a little while. My mom and aunts' cousins and their father will usually stop by for dessert, and after dessert we always play some sort of game like Catch Phrase, Pictionary, Cranium, etc. We split into two teams, and every year claim it will just be some friendly holiday competition, and every year it takes about five rounds until everyone is yelling at each other, throwing things across the room, and accusing everyone of cheating. Needless to say, the game ends pretty quickly, and usually my cousins, Broseph and I will escape to the den:



Which is usually where we remain in hiding until it's time to leave and go back to my grandmother's for the night, happy to have survived another year.

This past fall, my cousin (on my Dad's side) married her long-time boyfriend and moved into his house in Connecticut, which just so happens to be a town away from Fairfield. So, this year we're completing the Christmas Marathon by celebrating with my Dad's side of the family on the 26th, which consists of my cousin and her husband and my aunt and her husband, who are coming down from Newport, Rhode Island. I'm assuming this will become a tradition, since it kills two birds with one stone. In past years, there's always been a battle over when we celebrate with them, and sometimes it doesn't happen until mid-January. It's convenient that now we can get it out of the way (which is a horrible way of putting it) on the way home back to Boston. It's also a lot better than what we did last year, which was to go straight to Newport on the way home on the 26th and do it there. And maybe I shouldn't be complaining about having Christmas and getting presents for three straight days, but it is EXHAUSTING.

This year, not only are we simply exchanging gifts and eating a meal, but we're adding a little something more into the mix, which I fear will also become a tradition: the sport of curling.



I have never played this sport, never even watched it in the Olympics, have no idea what on earth I am getting myself into. My father was trying to explain it to me over dinner last night, but instead went off on a tangent reminiscing about playing it years ago at The Country Club*. I still have no idea what to expect, but I do know that I was wrong when I thought my family could not get any more WASPy.

So, stay tuned for what's sure to be some lovely stories from that holiday experience.

*The Country Club is actually the name of a club here in Massachusetts, which happens to be the oldest country club in the US. It is not, in fact, the club that family belongs to (we belong to Brae Burn Country Club), but is the one my grandparents belonged to. And in case you were wondering, yes, all the stereotypes are true. I.E, Caddyshack.

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In other news: yes, I am home. I have spent my first full day here decorating the tree, driving around mall parking lots aimlessly, and hacking ice out of the gutters on the roof with my father. Woo suburbia! Also: the Broseph and I are getting along. A Christmas miracle!

Also--has anyone seen the Ciroc vodka commercial with P Diddy in it? Two things: first of all, the song that's playing in the video is Kanye West, which I find odd slash funny. Second, how the fuck does Ciroc become "the official vodka of New Year's Eve"? How does this get decided? Is there a vote? Does this mean if I make a commercial saying that Milwaukee's Best is the official beer of New Year's Eve, people will automatically drink it in large quantities despite the fact that it tastes like urine?

These are things that occupy my time when I don't have to go to work.

Form your own opinions:



Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you think of me in the next few days and get a little chuckle knowing you're in a better place.