Picture this: It's Christmas morning and the kids wake up at the crack of dawn, dashing into their parents room. Even though their parents are still asleep, they don't care! All they want to do is go downstairs and look under the tree. The kids bounce on the bed and try everything to wake their exhausted parents.
Now return to reality.
On Christmas morning I didn't wake up early like these kids, I was out like a log. I had stayed up late the night before, putting out fudge and milk for Santa, playing Wii all day with my friend Effie, and listening to my grandparents noisy friend on speaker phone when I was trying to sleep. I had cracked. I was saying, "Who cares if Santa comes while I'm awake? Who cares if he even comes?" Deep in my heart I knew that I would definitely care, but I wasn't ready to tell myself that yet. Soon I fell asleep, and if this was a cheesy Christmas story, the sugarplums would come dancing in my head right about now. Sadly, no enchanted candy visited my dreamless sleep. I don't think I would have gotten up if it wasn't for my dad in his Santa hat. He barged into my room, bombarding me with early morning Ho Ho Ho's and sitting on my bed. I reluctantly got up and donned my elf hat.
I checked on my fudge happily noting that it was all gone. Then I moved to the milk, which hadn't been touched. My dad shrugged, "I told you that you should have left wine for Santa." I sighed and moved to the stockings, taking mine and Stella's. We sat down in our playroom and opened our respective stockings. Stella's stocking is red with a black lab stitched into it. The stocking contained a collar, a big puffy red velvet collar with bells. It was very classy.
I left her to inspect her new gift and try to take it off, and moved to my stocking. There was a bear surrounded by presents worked into the material. The stocking held many great gifts, a new grip for my tennis racket, animal butt magnets, and some not so great deodorant. Then it was time to open the gifts underneath our wooden Jewish star tree.
I received a gift all the way from France, a hand stitched donkey ornament to match the painting in my room.
I opened a box that contained a porcelain mask, the face had sparkly golden eye shadow and lips with a very elaborate turquoise hat.
My parents gave me an Ipad and a very cool keyboard case for it.
I acquired my very own hairdryer and curling brush. Loads of new makeup for me to "experiment" came pouring in. All in all, it was a very successful Christmas. Most people would be content with their gifts and decide to sit around all day and wait for Christmas to be over, but not me. The moment that the last present was opened it was time to start getting ready to go to my uncle's house for breakfast. I donned my rather space age silver pants and black shirt, accenting the outfit with a red scarf and stylish Santa hat.
My parents had on rather similar color choices, so we looked like a family car full of red, silver, green, gold and black wrapping paper and tinsel. During the long drive out to New Hall I plugged in my headphones and listened to some music. Most of the music was purchased using my birthday gift cards, especially the six minute song that I accidentally bought. It's a very good thing that I now like that song, or I would be a very angry Kellen. I was jolted out of my music world a couple of times from the wet nose of Stella who was next to me in the car. Soon we rolled to a stop and I opened my eyes to find the familiar outdoor facade of my uncle's home. I threw open the door, grabbing the first bag that I could find from the trunk (letting Stella out in the process), then ran over to the gate. I pulled on the little black string that pushed the gate open. I stared into the beautiful back yard and then I was run over by two black Labradors. In a storm of black feet, wet pink tongues, and jingling bell collars, the dogs started to wrestle playfully around the yard.
I picked myself up and fixed my toppled hat. Once I walked through the back door I was almost run over again, but this time by relatives. The first in line was my uncle Timmo, next my grandmother Jeanne gave me a hug, then my aunt Elisabeth, my uncle Kurt, cousin Mathew, and finally our family friend Kit. Everyone was especially festive and gathered around the counter to catch up and chat. I walked into the backyard and immediately saw the three black labs rounding a corner, frantic for more attention. It was hard to pick out which was which; Tonka was like a large bear running towards me, Stella was distinguished by her fluffy collar, and finally Striker was the oldest, identified by his white beard. I wrestled a new toy from their gaping mouths, and chucked it down into the vineyard, slinking away as soon as I could. There was a very inviting smell coming from the barbecue and I decided to go and check it out. My uncles were crowded around the silver grill, layering different sausages onto its hot surface. I clapped my hands when I saw the ham (made just for me) and stepped back when the meat began to spit and sizzle with delight.
Inside, uncle Tim was cooking some breakfast sausages on the stove.
There was a big bowl of vibrant raspberries, dark blackberries, and fluorescent blue berries.
My parents had brought Rugula cookies as their contribution, which were filled with various things. They were encrusted with granulated sugar, which made them even more enjoyable.
Tim was also tossing some scrambled eggs in their clean black pan. The yellow yolk was consuming the white as he stirred the mixture with some milk.
Once the entire buffet was set up, we all loaded our plates with delicious food. The hash browns were perfectly seasoned, with just the right amount of salt. They were also fried, not burnt, but crispy which made them a nice honey brown color.
The sausages and ham were all cooked to perfection, and I tried the ham with my meal.
We chatted while they ate their breakfast and the rest of us opened our presents. My aunt Jeannie and my uncle Chris gave me a really pretty yellow striped scarf and a headband to warm my ears in cold weather. I received a super nice Barnes and noble gift card from my grandmother, a cute handbag from my uncle Tim, and a cool tank top from my brother and his FIANCEE! Most people would have given up at that point, being way too Christmas-ed out on Christmas. Not me. My parents, Stella, and I drove home to prepare for Christmas dinner at our house that night. My dad, still in his bright red pants, began to cook the rib. Using his very favorite seasoning from our dear friend Dario in Panzano, Chianti Italy. This famous butcher/chef would be proud to have my dad in what he calls "Dario Pants"( because Dario rocks those red pants), with his Dario Salt, cooking meat like Dario.
After much preparation by my parents, and much Sim playing by me, we were ready for our guests. The first to arrive was my other brother Chris, we enjoyed the house music mash up CD I made him for Christmas. The other guests started to roll in, and we all made our way to the den for H'orderves. There were two types of eggnog. The plaque for one said, "Without" and then a Christmas tree, so I guess it meant "Without Christmas Tree" and the other meant "With Christmas Tree". I tried the "Without Christmas tree" one and I'm pretty sure that it was the right move because I didn't immediately stagger back in alcoholic overdose.
After the eggnog drinking and H'orderve eating, it was time for the main attraction. We all sat down at the very festive holiday dining table and awaited our salads. The lettuce was very thick and multicolored, mainly green and pink, and there was melted cheese on the top. I had chosen not to have hazelnuts sprinkled on my salad, but that is only my preference. The salad tasted very citrus like with the dressing.
After the salad I was called to the kitchen to help serve the plates of prime rib. I placed plates down for everyone, serving on the left and clearing on the right. After I had finished with serving, I sat down at my own seat with my own plate. The piece of prime rib looked juicy and rare. It tasted perfectly tender and it went really well with the other items on the plate. My mom just made a lovely jello mold, it had raspberry on the top and sweet cream on the bottom. It was very good, sweet, refreshing, and I wanted to stick my hand in it because it was so wobbly. There were also mashed potatoes that stuck together and were very sticky, creamed corn that was sweet and warm, and pop overs that could break a window.
That was my Christmas, and I wouldn't change anything about it for the world.
