Christmas for Me
I make fun of my wife on this site; I point out the whimsical way that she decides to address the world on a daily basis, I draw parallels to her choices and those of small children, and if she is to be believed I constantly post ever increasingly bad pictures of her. In this sense I think that turnaround is fair play and that I should at the very least talk about how I viewed the holiday from my point of view, basically through the lens of visiting both her family and mine.
The one thing that should always be noted out about Veronica’s family is that there is always food present in whatever house we show up at, regardless of us showing up being in any relationship to a holiday. The problem is that some of the food that those people eat isn’t really food, and I believe is named after something that Frodo battled on his way to mount doom. It isn’t even that any of it is bad, just of questionable construction; such as some kind of meatball wrapped in cabbage—I like meatballs, but I don’t understand why we had to involve a vegetable in this discussion.
Sadly I think I am at the point in my life when I enjoy the holidays because I get to see my entire family, and then promptly leave and complain about how weird they are. Not that I am one to talk; I am man child who dresses funny and is currently unemployed. The point is that I am glad I am a part of a writhing mass of awkward that I call the Gillman clan, even though such events normally just feel like six “grownups” walking around and wondering how early is too early to start drinking just to deal with each other.
Also my brother brings his children, which is great because it seems to continually increase the odds that my wife may attempt to steal one of them. I keep trying to tell her that they call people who do that witches, but she doesn’t seem to listen. It is fun, though, hanging out with my brother’s children because I grew up with him and still remember when I was three and he convinced me that I was a pond person and that it was only a matter of time before they came to reclaim me. I cried for hours. So when I look at them and see small, more concentrated versions of him I think the Klingon were wrong and revenge is a dish best served by children.
Of course probably the most notable and wonderful part of the holiday is spending as much of it as I can with my loving and amazing wife. I say this because at some point she decided that it was entirely possible to work remotely from my parents’ house, meaning both that she could be in her mountains for an exceedingly long period of time and that I got to annoy her to the point that she instructed me to go see a movie with my mother. I figure that if I can manage to refine this process it will be a sharp enough blade that I can use it to get copious amounts of video games.
Long time readers of the site might know that I have made great efforts to break my wife of her theory of “a happy house has no dog.” It turns out, though, that my brother seemed to be able to do that way better than I could but only through the way of his dogs being awesome snugglers. Whatever works I guess.