Day 359 — Christmas

[for Tuesday, Dec. 25]



Project 365

Selected quotes from Holidizzle 2007

My 13-year-old cousin Tyler: Aunt Fran could barely talk last night! She was slurring her words together and dancing around the Christmas tree!

Mom: I was not! I was fully coherent. [pause] I was trashed.

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Aunt Cindy: Keri bought this birdhouse that, y'all, I swear, the front door to it looks exactly like a vagina.

Dad: So you know every time that bird comes home he feels like a pussy.

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Mom: I have a doodie story!

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Mom (in the hopes of embarrassing my brother in front of his new girlfriend Beverly): Uh oh. I feel a full moon coming on.

Evan (who has a propensity for mooning people at inappropriate times, if there is even an appropriate time to moon anyone): Uh oh, I think you want to see it.

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Casey (my 12-year-old nephew, entering the room with the white-wine bottle I had drained earlier): Ooooh, Aunt Lindsey, are you going to keep this bottle? Can I have it? I love saving bottles.

Me (looking at my sister Krissie): You'll have to ask your mom, but as far as I'm concerned, go for it. Just wash it out first.

Krissie (looking mildly dismayed): I don't care. Just wash it out first. (To me) He is just like you -- a friggin' packrat. He keeps bottles, scraps of paper, everything.

[Casey comes back into the room, swigging some light-colored liquid out of the wine bottle.]

Krissie: NOPE! HUH-UH. GO POUR THAT OUT AND PUT THE BOTTLE UP.

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Krissie (as an aside during a boisterous game of Malarky) : What's the difference between a corset and a girdle? And where does the extra fat go when you wear one?

Me: I think a corset rides higher and lower, and it's got whalebone or something in it. All the fat is shoved into the empty cavities of your body and it smothers your organs! They're both a physical manifestation of the oppression of women!

Entire room: GROOOOOAN.

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Heee heee. My family is hilarious. There was a lot of laughter yesterday. For several people in my family, it's been a really tough year. But we usually manage to come together and make each other cry laughing a few times a year. My only regret is that I didn't write down some of the other stuff that was said, like the conversation about bras and cup size, when I learned that damn near everyone in my family is a D or Double D except me. According to them, though, it's possible that I will just randomly wake up with a huge rack some day (if I ever have kids), which is what happened to all of them.

Ahhh, Christmas gives us such hope.

Day 358 — Wrapping

Project 365

Christmas Eve Liveblogextravaganzazomg

I was invited to a party tonight, but I've ended up frittering away my evening at home, sort of half paying attention to VH1's "I Love The '90s" marathon, sipping Korbel, and wrapping the rest of my presents. Man, Patrice Oneal cracks me up. I think I could just sit and listen to him laugh for hours.

My cats have probably eaten five feet of sparkly ribbon by now. Note to self: In the future, try to wrap gifts in a padlocked room so that your delightfully curious animals don't pounce each freshly wrapped gift and tear the cheap paper open so that you have to patch your gifts like they're some random hobo's pants or something. Yeesh.

The War on Christmas: Exhibit A (for Apple)

Photo by Genista, via Pandagon.

Day 353 — Robot Santa

[for Wednesday, Dec. 19]



My awesome Christmas card from Jamie.

Project 365

Day 350 — Insanity

[for Sunday, Dec. 16]



Project 365

Day 346 — Poinsettia

[for Wednesday, Dec. 12]



Project 365

Ack!

Two weeks 'til Christmas, I've not yet started my shopping, I'm broke, etc.

Commence freakout now.

Day 339 — Santa

[for Wednesday, Dec. 5]



A friend and I were talking today about Christmas and how we're not feeling so festive. Yet. Yeah, I know getting all worked up about feeling THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT ^TM is cliché now. Whatever. I can remember when I used to get all giddy about Christmas. When carols and smells and lights and wrapping gifts made me feel all warm and fuzzy. It wasn't that long ago. I miss that. I think it started waning once I moved out of my parents' house and had to give up most of the family traditions. My Christmas used to consist of several celebrations spread over several weeks among the various branches of my family.

Now, work and time passed have whittled all that down to one day where I rush to drive in and then rush to drive back out in time to come to work the next day (or, if I'm lucky, the day after).

It doesn't help that I rarely get to make it to any Christmas parties. Everyone knows boozin' it up helps boost the warm fuzzies.

Project 365

Day 334 — Christmas Lights

[for Friday, Nov. 30]



Project 365

Blibbity blamazon, somethin' somethin' Amazon

Don't know if I can wait 'til Christmas for this.

Day 329 — Meeting Santa

[for Sunday, Nov. 25]



Phil's mom brought Rylee to town today to check out the Enchanted Forest at the Pink Palace and, ultimately, to meet the big man in red himself, ol' Santa Claus.

We made our way dutifully through the twisting paths flanked by animatronic woodland creatures and elves, slowly (and creepily) cutting wood and even eating poison mushrooms. I was completely blown away by the gingerbread houses on display. Clearly, the people who submit them are incredibly competitive. There were castles and churches and a Southland Gaming Park and a Parthenon. And then there was this, which deserves its own Food Network show.

When we finally made it to Santa (and convinced Rylee to wait her turn in line; she kept either breaking in line or leaving to go watch the train set again), she cautiously approached him and sat on the wooden pony, before demanding a candy cane and then running off without sitting on his lap. Poor old guy. He was taking clandestine swigs of something between kids. I imagine I'd need to be good and liquored up before letting hundreds of kids sit on my lap and cough in my face while telling me all the crap they felt entitled to that year. The whisky helps kill the germs.

I remember not taking a shine to Santa when I was a kid. But I think I was frigging terrified of the Easter Bunny. I want to say there are horrible, horrible pictures out there of me in my finest pastel dress at age three or so, screaming bloody murder in the lap of a bewildered giant rabbit. Is that for real? No idea. I should ask the parents. So I understand why Rylee wouldn't immediately want to hop on the lap of some random bearded dude in a furry red suit.

I was really impressed by all the Christmas trees various local orgnizations had up at the Pink Palace. There was a tree made from recycled stuff (upside-down light bulbs painted to look like snowmen!), a tree made as an homage to wine, and a purple Seuss/Grinch tree complete with fireplace being raided by the Grinch himself. It was ridiculously cute.

All those neat trees just made me mourn the fact that I won't be putting up my tree this year. The cats will destroy it. I'm going to have to wait until they're a bit older and hopefully less unabashedly insane. I can just imagine the anarchy that would ensue the moment I got that bastard erected and plugged in. And the thought makes me laugh and cry at the same time.

Project 365

Day 328— Already?

[for Saturday, Nov. 24]



Yes, already.

Project 365