Ah, Christmas Morning!
Normally I wouldn’t be sitting here, watching A Christmas Story and blogging on Christmas morning. As you’ve guessed by now, I didn’t make it home. But so far it isn’t so bad. Last night Carrrrrmen and I went to see the Boston Gay Men’s Chorus and out for drinks in the only bar open in town afterwards (pictures to come later today). For some reason she had a burning desire to play Scrabble, so naturally we brought the game with us into the bar. And we played, O! It was so very intense. Thus we attracted some strange attention. Here is a snippet of conversation from a guy who sat down next to me for a spell:
Guy: What are you drinking? (gesturing to my nearly empty beer glass)
Me: It was a Guinness.
Guy: You like that stuff?
Me: Umm, looks like it.
It was actually really fun, except for the horrible music. Have you heard Cartman’s rendition of Come Sail Away?
Christmas mornings were truly magical when I was a child, especially before my parents split. I don’t remember actually finding out the truth about Santa, do you? My brother, sister, and I would stand in the kitchen (painted olive green, gotta love the ’70s), standing at the doorway that led down to the family room, where Santa had left us presents. We would giggle and take turns trying to peek through the keyhole to catch a glimpse of our goodies. When Mom and Dad said it was time, we rushed the door, down the stairwell and to our respective stockings.
We opened presents always on Christmas morning, I can’t imagine following the tradition that does them on Christmas Eve. That just can’t be the same. We were allowed to open one present before bed on Christmas Eve. An appetizer of sorts. A teaser.
We would open presents one at a time, early Chrstmas Morn, watching each other. It wasn’t a mad dash for the finish line, so we’d be at it quite a while. One Christmas my parents audio taped us opening presents. I wish I knew where that tape was! It was precious. I remember hearing my brother, who was 9 years old or so at the time, open up the double album set of Gold Rush ’79 and exclaiming with excitement, “Wow! Mom! It’s got Shake Your Groove Thing!”. Awesome.
I admit that I always felt a pang of regret once everything was ripped open and admired. I hated the idea that the next Christmas was now so very far away. I guess I sort of feel that way right now too.