Christmas with the C's

Eaaa...eaaa...eaaaa...

It's always nice to wake up to that disturbingly familiar alarm clock sound early on your day off. What's that? Oh yeah, it's Christmas and I am getting up early to cook for the C family. Well, due to dissolution, marriage and more dissolution we are no longer the C family, but I'll refer to us as the C family for the sake of time.

For the past five or so years I have hosted Christmas dinner/supper/late lunch/whatever at my house. I absolutely refuse to cook a traditional Christmas meal. It is my goal in life never to cook a turkey. It just appears to be too much effort for too little return. So each year I spend twice the time it would take to make a turkey making something different and creative. I don't know how those unique, non-conformist people do it every day because it's all I can do to be different just on Christmas. Last year was cajun food - jambalaya, blackened catfish, hush puppies, cornbread, black eyed peas. The year before Thai. This year was to be Chinese but I got lazy and did Italian instead...chicken cacciatore, spinach manicotti, bruschetta, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, salad, garlic bread, and calamari. It was more work than Chinese any day of the week.

Everyone has just left and the kitchen looks like Fallujah. No, there are no leftovers - my gracious family brings their own tupperware to abscond with anything not tied down or too dirty to bother.

Actually, Christmas was great. No family strife. My mother only cried once at the thought my brother put into my gift - a diamond to replace the one missing from the family heirloom ring. To be quite honest, knowing he doesn't read and all...I would have preferred he spend the money on next month's mortgage payment. Then again, that's probably just me being selfish because I would rather not pay his mortgage and wait a few months for the replacement diamond...And where the heck did he get the diamond? Some sort of drug trade, no doubt. I mean, really, who buys a single diamond - not in a setting or anything?

What you really want to know is what I got, right? Never fear, like any Mastercard moment, it is priceless...two miniature pygora goats, a rolling butcherblock from Ikea, a food processor, a diamond, and some lovely flannel pajamas. Not a bad take if I do say so myself. And I have come to the realization that by not having children, hence grandchildren for my parents, I get more stuff each year. Seems petty, and it is, but it is true. If I or my brother had children, neither of us would get the loot we get. We still get Santa sacks, for goodness sake! Thirty-two years old and I get a Santa sack from my parents. Yes, I will have to rethink my existence in the next year.

Well, I'm off to do the dishes and gorge on leftover snickerdoodles.