The Family Christmas

Dateline: Dec 25 2010


I am not sure how to report the evening's happenings to you, Gentle Readers. Things were simultaneously MUCH better than I expected and a bit worse than I'd imagined. Which was odd, the two things happening at the same time.

Incidentally, some of the Company are now getting drunk and showing their feelings by visiting the bars and so on, and at least I'm not sinking that low, although I did seriously consider a good shot of Drambuie on the way home.

There were tears, but not from me. My mother has finally figured out that saying "I know how you feel" is quite possibly the worst thing you can tell somebody who's had a trauma (or a death). Unfortunately, she had this epiphany in the middle of opening presents when she mentioned that she's finally beginning to get arthritis in her fingers and she was having some pain. Bro mentioned, as a joke, "Well, now you know how I feel!" and she started to agree with him, and then she started to cry. "No, I don't know how you feel . . . " etc etc. Got quite maudlin, really, I found myself thanking God that she hadn't had anything to drink, alcoholically, anyway, because if she had, 'tis certain we would have had a bigger scene. As it was everybody was looking a little uncomfortable while she sobbed gently about how she could never know what it felt like. I dunno. Do epiphanies really always have to be so dramatic?

The night started out with my dear father holding forth on "those damn Somalis" and things sort of went downhill from there. Usually we manage to get him to quit talking about politics but tonight he was determined and no matter who started talking about other stuff, he always dragged it round back to his political views, which, needless to say, were extremely unpalatable. Now, he's not nearly as right-wing as my mother, he's basically an old-style Republican conservative, and at least (if there must be a silver lining) he tends to be intolerant due to financial and statistical reasons. He's scientifically bigoted, as opposed to my mother, who quite simply is a religious right-wing nut job and tends to follow the leader without thinking.

You may notice that I don't talk about politics in this blog. That's because I don't like them. And since it's my blog, we will stay far away from them. I think talking about politics is like deliberately whacking a hornet's nest and then being surprised when you get stung.

So much for that. Food was great, Bro had brought some brined and dried salmon for starters (along with the cheese and nuts and crackers that my parents always provide -- 7 year old Vermont cheddar and smoked provolone, to be sure), and it was FANTASTIC. Not sure where the fish was caught, but the guy who treated it lives in White Bear Lake and he was a friend of Bro, so that's how we got it. Mom cooked a turkey and I did the gravy and my parents are always surprised when I do the gravy, how great it tastes. That's because I actually use the drippings and so on that are in the bottom of the pan, and Mom, if it's left to her, tends to throw all that out with a shudder -- "it's fattening". Well, so it is if you have cups of the gravy, but if you only have an ounce or two, it's not that bad! Because I don't use a lot of the true *fat*, just the drippings. Because she never sees a layer of fat in the gravy itself, she never objects. *sigh* Mom also made her version of mashed potatoes (bearable with gravy) and mashed yams, but alas, for the first time in years, she ALSO made that green beans thing with the onions-in-a-can on top and cream of mushroom soup all in the beans. Ugh. I took the required two bites and let it alone! Too mushy. Now, I've nothing against beans with mushrooms and onions, but this . . . Dessert was almost exactly like an apple crisp but with pumpkin pie filling instead of apples. I liked it, but I think it would have been better served with a nice cream cheese layer underneath it.

Mom made us our traditional Eastern European coffee cake and some ham to go with it, but by the time I was more than ready to go, I forgot to take it with us, so Fish will go over there tomorrow on his way to work to pick it up. Luckily, both things freeze well!

Presents . . . .I got a $100 Lane Bryant gift card (I desperately need new underwear that fits, now I've lost 40 pounds!), a $15 gift card to Itunes, some new slippers which I love (they've got sheepie fleece on the inside!), a $25 best Buy gift cert (also a cute card, from my Bro), a couple pairs of warm new gloves, including a nice pair for dressy occasions, and  . . . actually, I think that's it. Oh, and Mom decided for reasons best known to herself to give us a copy of the Christmas card as part of a present . . . Mom and Dad really enjoyed my baking present and Bro liked the food too, wish I'd known, I would have made him a bigger basket. Ah well.

And speaking of Bro, he'd done a 180' turn about from the sullen, depressed guy he was at Thanksgiving. I knew the second he came bolting up the steps with a grin on his face to hug me that I would have to seriously revise my expectations! I was so happy to see that from him that I almost horribly embarrassed himself and myself by bursting into relieved and joyous tears right then and there in the front doorway. I didn't, though. And he continued happy the entire night, making jokes, smiling, and not being anywhere near as contrary and spiteful as he's been. I couldn't quite keep from staring at him. What a difference! This is the charming, handsome, funny, gracious brother I remember from when we were both young. I haven't seen him in a very long time, years, possibly decades. He told us all that he was working on his attitude -- I guess even he got sick of himself. Really, it's not very PC  to say this but I have a permanent injury so I know whereof I speak, and seriously, there's only so much self-pity you can stomach. Eventually you have to look at yourself in the mirror and say "This is shit, and I'm tired of it -- things need to change." It's sort of a natural progression.

He said his fingers were getting better too, though still painful (I haven't even tried to tell him that with that kind of injury he might have twinges for the rest of his life . . . he doesn't need to hear that right now), and he didn't notice -- but I did -- that unlike at Thanksgiving when he couldn't move them at all, his fingers were actually bending. He was using his fingers. That's the best Christmas present ever! I told him at Thanksgiving that things would get better if he could just live long enough, and I am relieved and humbled to be proven correct. Granted, they weren't bending *much* and he still can't hold a beer or soda can in his right hand, but he was able to grip Mom's hand, a definite improvement. He carved the Christmas Turkey, which he couldn't do at Thanksgiving. I am so pleased. I confidently expect even more use out of them, for him, as time goes on, particularly when Spring comes and the weather warms up, which will be easier on everybody's joints -- including mine too! And of course, now that he's got his head right (even if that doesn't last, it's been enough improvement that I think his brain will continue to move forward), we can all expect good things. I don't know how much function he'll get back, but anything will be better than what he's got now.

My brother is healing -- really healing, and The Chief Fool is home. It's been a great Christmas. Those are the two best gifts I could have gotten, and neither of them were expected or something that anybody could have planned for until it happened. Funny how that happens, really. It's not about the physical stuff. Christmas is about everything else. The unexpected gifts . . . oohhh . . . I feel some lyrics coming on! Excuse me for a moment, won't you?

One Christmas Down, One To Go

Dateline: 24 December, 2010

Just got back from Christmas at my in-law's and a pleasant time was had by all. My young nephews (Thing 1 and Thing 2) were engaging all evening, polite and friendly, and at the end of the night they looked adorable in their Christmas pj's -- we took pictures, and I will post them when I get them emailed to me, as their mother promised she would. The Things are 2 and 5 this holiday season, a blond and a redhead, and were so busy with Grandma's presents of Thomas the Tank Engine that they never even noticed our boring ol' books and a DVD about airplanes. But I suspect that long after Thomas and his friends get sent to a rummage sale, Dr. Seuss, Mother Goose, and the Wizard of Oz will hang around. I baked up a storm for the adults (strawberry jam, pumpkin and zucchini bread and blueberry muffins, and 4 kinds of cookies) and Fish contributed some clothes for his brother (which bro changed right into, always a good sign!) and some of the little figurines that MIL and now sis collect. All the presents were well received and bro-in-law took the chance when everybody else was in the kitchen to thank me for baking all their stuff from scratch and ensuring that it was nut free -- Thing 1 has a big nut allergy --. Kind of made me wonder about the other people they know, hell, I suffer from allergies, I know what it's like. And it's no skin off my nose, some of the Company have environmental allergies, still others are allergic to citrus and most antibiotics, it's a way of life for me to accommodate. Not to mention me and all my allergies. Do unto others, remember?

Speaking of presents, we had all agreed to only give one present each per adult this year, but Mom-in-law cheated! In addition to giving Fish and I a $500 check (which we will use partly on new glasses for both of us but mostly on a 10'x12' canvas wall tent from these guys, Fall Creek Sutlery: http://fcsutler.com/fccanvas.asp -- the wall tents are about halfway down the page --), MIL also gave Fish his baby book, which I found fascinating (right up until I saw the piece of umbilical cord taped in there, yikes! What a thing to come upon!), and a pair of memorial poly ornaments with his father's birth and death dates and my father-in-law elect's birth and death dates inscribed. They're nicer than that, I just don't know how to describe them, having never seen anything like them before. Fish is more sentimental than most guys so we will hang these right on our tree. MIL is also growing an evergreen in a pot for us as a memorial to Ron, my FIL-elect (he died about 6 months before Fish and I actually had our wedding), and wants us to put this in our yard somewhere this spring. I do not know how I feel about this. For one, there's really no room. Pine trees get HUGE. For secondly, I don't know if I want *that* kind of a memorial in my yard. Ron's memory, at least, as far as I am concerned, does not need to be refreshed, if anything, it's still too painful to really fully embrace right now and the last thing I want is to have to look at it every day. Besides, he would have told her himself to choose something else. Well, maybe by this spring things will have changed, who knows.

I got a lovely bracelet with Connemara marble beads from my sis and bro in law, also a lovely, very classic pearl necklace from Fish. The pearls are fake, but they're damn good fakes, they have the heft and gleam etc of the real deal. The rope is also knotted between each pearl, a nice touch, I thought. It's very Jackie O, and I wholeheartedly agree with his choice. And MIL, in addition to everything else, gave us a KINDLE. She said it was for both of us, but I suspect that Fish will be the one who uses it most. I just have never been interested, having been a Luddite when it comes to new book technology. The old ways are perfectly fine with me, thank you very much! I admit to being suspicious about this new way to read books. But then again, I was suspicious of books on tape and still don't own a single audiobook. That's also because I am really not auditory and don't process auditory information at all, hardly, but still. Books are meant to be printed. On paper.

MIL also cooked dinner entirely on her own, deaf to any offers of help. She always does lobster tails and steak, but her inexperience with steak is obvious -- she's always let her husband do the meat -- and since I grew up with a father who believed (and still believes!) that it's a sin to cook dead cow any harder than 'medium' -- and who passed on his techniques to his daughter as well as his son -- well, I don't mean to be but I am a bit of a steak snob. Had there been steak sauce I would have eaten more of it. Next year I may offer, politely but firmly, to bring a Cesar salad. There wasn't a single blessed green thing on that table. The closest we got to a veggie was baked beans. And coleslaw. Not that I am complaining, necessarily, but after 72 straight hours of cookie baking, I was kind of sick of starchy carbs and some green beans or lettuce or peapods or carrots (or all of the above!) would not have gone amiss. Speaking of which, once I'm through writing this blog, I think I may rummage for some steamed green stuff in the freezer. Because it's 11:30pm, we ate at 6pm, and I frankly, am hungry.

I managed to be social most of the night although once dinner was over I was content to sit in the kitchen by myself and listen to Christmas music, but my MIL insisted that I join them in the living room, so, I did. After tomorrow, I am going to *bury* myself at home and not do a single thing that requires human interaction. I desperately need some alone time. Real alone time. Not alone-but-having-computer-conversations time. Not alone but with hubby in the same room time. Real, honest, *alone* time. It was very hard on my head having to make conversations with strangers for all those excruciating hours on the train. Then having to deal with the Chief Fool's friends, who may in time become my friends too, but for right now, are virtual strangers. Then going back across 3 states for 12 hours with the Fool in her car, with a cat. And then, having less than 36 hours at home before I had to go back and deal with the Fool's sister and mom . . . and the movers . . . oh, my, god . . . . and then 3 days of frantic Christmas prep, and then MORE socialization.

If I don't get some good, thorough alone time soon, I'm not sure what's going to happen. Tonight was good, better than I expected it to go.

Tomorrow, though . . . tomorrow will suck. And I think I will be glad of the chance to curl up in bed with my reassuring blankie (it helps when I feel stressed and vulnerable) by my side and just be me. Without anybody to perform for.

Oh, don't misunderstand. If the Fool needed me again, I'd do it all again without even thinking about which way to jump. That's the kind of relationship we have. But the aftermath -- let's just say it was bad timing. Which we knew, really, but there wasn't any other way.

Anyway, I am glad I had such a good Christmas with my in-laws, because I sure as hell won't have one tomorrow with my parents and brother. Even if I do assign my base criteria -- "If I don't leave crying, it was a good night", I dunno. There are so many mines just waiting to be stepped on, I can't see how to get through an entire night without making at least one mis-step, somewhere along the line.

There's a reason, I think, that the Christmas song "The St. Stephen's Day Murders' resonates with me so much.