Merry Christmas! It's already over in Iowa, of course, but it will live on in our hearts forever (or at least for another hour, if you're in California). I had an absolutely lovely day -- thankfully, there are no small children in this house, and so we got up at the utterly wretched but still civilized hour of eight a.m. to open presents (in truth, my parents were awake sometime around five, and I woke up at 6:30 from a rather intensely vivid nightmare, but I went back to bed until the appointed hour). We took our time opening our packages, and everyone seemed to enjoy what they received.
As usual, no one would have traded their stash for another person's pile, since our interests are so varied; oddly enough, this year I probably would have taken my dad's stash if I was forced at gunpoint to switch, since he got a lot of cast iron cookware that I'm jealous of, but I'm quite happy with what I got. Several books, of course, including Haruki Murakami's massive "1Q84"; another gluten-free cookbook (which looks amazeballs); a bottle of absurdly expensive but completely luscious fountain pen ink (for the book that still refuses to write itself); several kitchen implements, including a creme brulee torch and eight creme brulee ramekins; and a copy of Rail Baron from [censored], who managed to find a brand-new still-in-box copy of a game we've had for nearly thirty years (a game which did not achieve the immortal fame that would guarantee massive reprints, like Monopoly or Candy Land). So, as usual, I anticipate a lot of post-Christmas cooking and reading in my future.
After opening presents, we all slowly meandered around the house, showering, etc. My mom went into town and retrieved my grandmother, who came out for brunch and stayed most of the afternoon. For once in my Iowa life, brunch was the way I usually have it in California -- after noon, with champagne. My dad made his always-awesome fried potatoes, scrambled eggs w/mushrooms/peppers/onions, bacon, and ambrosia, and my mom made blueberry muffins (which I resisted), and we all ended up in what would have been food comas if my grandmother had stopped asking me questions about when I'm going back to work long enough that I could have fallen asleep. On round three or four of her questions about whether I'm working, at which point I reminded her that I'd left my job over a year ago, she actually called me a 'rich old maid' -- which I might have cut her for if I didn't know that she would forget that she had called me that by the time I came back with my shank. Sigh.
sssanyway, it really was nice, despite the circular conversations. My grandmother went back to her apartment sometime after four (closer to five), and then we prepared for another round of eating. We watched "60 Minutes" first, which had some v. interesting bits about the Vatican library and about an island of Orthodox monasteries in Greece. Then we had prime rib, baked potatoes, and five cup salad -- I don't think any of us were particularly hungry, but it was our only chance to do it, and the prime rib was some of the best I've ever had. Mmm. Post-rib, [censored] and I [censored] the final three [censored], and now I'm all caught up until [censored] returns sometime late next year. I may go back and catch the first few seasons that we skipped, but we shall see -- theoretically I have a book or five to write in the next year, so television time needs to be reduced.
And now, I shall sleep; we're playing games tomorrow, sans reindeer, and I need to be in peak physical condition if I'm going to run the Rail Baron bank for eight hours. Goodnight!
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