I visited Sarah's mother's friend's friend's place last night, and we ate lasagna and salads. Nothing says Merry Midwestern Christmas like noodles and sauce. Feeling extraordinarily awkward from not knowing anybody there, I promptly plowed into the beers, and, after a rousing game of Apples to Apples, dozed off in a perversely comfortable leather recliner beside the fire. Even the ninety-year old grandmother there had more stamina. I'm waiting for pictures of my opened, drooling mouth to appear on Facebook. 'You need dental work' will be the most common post.
I've always hidden my social discomforts pretty well, aside from the time I had to wait two whole days for the paternity test results. I am not the father of a certain Cornelius Jenkins. That the kid has my cheekbones and adorable puppy-dog eyes is pure coincidence. Stop calling me. Anyway, the holiday unfolded in cinema-scope. Even though I was introduced to everyone, I knew none of them personally. We all had to exchange gifts anonymously for their fabled white elephant sale. People like Josh Groban CDs, who knew? I won a two-coffee mug set, with some Tide Detergent-scented coffee, which I (accidentally) left behind after getting my coat.
The most highly coveted gift was a box of bubble-lights from Eisenhower's era. There's kitch value, yes, but they're likely flammable, and...listen to me, Old Man George: 'No, I had better not go outside today, there could be wind!' What I'm trying to say, is that I really fucking wanted those lights.
They had this miniature electric grand piano that played Hey Jude all night until somebody finally unplugged it. I felt like I had the run of the house, like the family had completely availed the interior to me, and I could poke-around as I pleased. The master-bath was really nice. They had a sauna and pool in the basement, and a few brave (mentally retarded) souls took the plunge, then ran into the snow.
As far as Christmas's go, this was relaxing, and enjoyable. At my parent's house the night before, we played cards, ate way way way too many mixed-nuts, drank Maalox, and traded stories and laughter. I got a great book of short-stories from my Mom, which I'm trying to not read today at work. Each year I think we're better able to figure out why these days are so important, and to appreciate what matters. For strangers to be so welcoming and giving is really very humbling. My thanks go to everyone out there, trying to live well, and live right, by themselves and others.
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