Sunday, December 27, 2009
Two, three, four, no...three martinis later Christmas holiday dinner circa 2009 came to a close. This one wasn't too bad at all, granted my perspective was colored by the buzz, but still, I think it went fairly well.
I came away from the meal (as usual) with some observations / reflections. This year's version:
1. We don't play games. I played games with my children (though Danielle was / is the bigger fan) but I realized, growing up and since, my mother never played with us and doesn't to this day, won't even entertain the suggestion.
2. I never had gin before a couple days ago. Gin martinis are as tasty as vodka martinis. More potent, though. It is possible I haven't established a tolerance, yet. Or my mixing hand just a tad heavy.
3. We don't sing as a family. Each of us sing on our own (along to the radio, music player, whatever) but not together. I think only Michael feels he has a passable singing voice.
4. More than half of the various conversations during dinner were a re-hash or actual verbatim repeats of previous conversations, dominated by mom's church family and siblings (from decades ago).
5. Telling stories...oral history, folklore...is an important (the primary) activity during these family dinners.
6. My mom does not do well with change, or even the suggestion of change.
7. I'd really rather not receive another pair of heavy material, heavily patterned pajamas. Really. Not.
8. Still, I'm sure the next owner of the lovely garments will be rightly enamored with them.
9, You know that line in "The Christmas Story" Aunt Clara had for years labored under the delusion that I was not only four years old . . . well, we got some of that goin' on around here.
10. Pete must have had a reaction to the scent of the butter on the table. I can't think of any other reason why he'd be so adamant about getting on the table, which is quite odd for him when people are around. Buttah is the people cat, Pete's the loner. Had to be the butter luring him.
And oh, know that the antlers on the diva was not my idea. She didn't like them but was, for the most part, a good sport about them. She didn't have to suffer the indignity too long. And she was awarded a treat for her trouble.