It's Not Over Until the Twelfth Drummer Drums

I hope your Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, (or if you're Jehovah's Witness, weekend where everything was closed and the only thing you could do was eat Chinese food or go to the movies), was fabulous. While Christmas is not my favorite holiday (it comes in at a close second to Thanksgiving), it is my favorite time of year. With all the twinkle lights and Christmas songs played everywhere you go, there just seems to be a certain glow about everything. Friends come home. Family gets together. I love the magical, warm and fuzzy feeling I get every year around this time. And let's face it, presents don't hurt either. For the first time in more years than I'd like to count, Kurt and I exchanged presents. In years past, we were just-out-of-college-and-starting-out-on-our-own-poor, or saving for something important (like a wedding), so we agreed not to exchange. This year, we finally feel like we're on our feet and while there's always something to save for, we decided to exchange and, not wanting to go overboard, capped the value at a modest amount. I got him cologne and some books and dvds and he got me a pair of beautiful turquoise earrings. That's right. Cologne and books. Turquoise earrings. It's not hard to see who made out better in that exchange.

On Christmas Eve, we go to my aunt and uncle's house for dinner. We have a few traditions on Christmas Eve that date back to before I can remember. I love traditions. This is because I am largely a creature of habit. Once, my parents surprised us with tickets to Disney World (my favorite place on Earth) for Thanksgiving and my response was, "Wait, we're not going to see Aunt Arlene and Uncle Ed?" I was also appalled that we would be eating Thanksgiving dinner in a restaurant (no offense to anyone who does, but since we had never eaten Thanksgiving in a restaurant before, I was completely against it. see: Creature of Habit above.).

Anyway, back to Christmas. Before Christmas Eve dinner each year, we each take a piece of Christmas wafer (or Opłatki, in Polish) and go around wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. The way it works is this: you walk up to someone, say Merry Christmas, take a piece of their wafer, while they break off a piece of yours, you each eat your own little piece of each other's wafer, then kiss on the cheek or shake hands. Move to the next person and repeat. This, as you can imagine, was torturous for Kurt the first time I brought him to Christmas Eve. It's a fun little tradition to initiate anyone into the family. This, and not the food, is my favorite part of Christmas Eve dinner. As a kid, I used to let each person take only a tiny piece from my wafer so I could eat the rest when we were done. This little habit, I realized a few years ago, must have been picked up from my Nonni who would do the same, but also take the largest piece possible from everyone else.

After the wafers, we move onto dinner. My aunt's parents were Polish and my grandparents were Italian, so we have a mish mash of cultural food. Pierogies with sauerkraut or cheese, pickled herring, and kielbasa represent the Polish side, while the feast of the seven fishes, stuffed mushrooms, and risotto two ways represent the Italian side (usually, we also have lasagna as a first course). And let's not forget, we're also American, so we have to have ham, potatoes, carrots, and the staple of any American holiday dinner table: green bean casserole. After dinner comes a ridiculous amount of desserts. This year, my dad must have been feeling adventurous because, for dessert on Christmas Day, he made an Eggnog Cheesecake, which, if you've ever had any dessert made by my father, you would know was to die for. Now that all four of us cousins are old enough to drink, the wine and champagne flows and by the end of the meal, everyone is stuffed, happy, warm, and just a little bit tipsy.

On Christmas Day, my dad and sister came over for pancakes and we gave my sister the nerdiest Christmas present ever: Anatomy Flash Cards (which she asked for and loved).

And then we made the rounds visiting Kurt's parents and then back to my aunt and uncle's to end where we began.

I've always liked Christmas Eve better than Christmas Day. I think it has something to do with anticipation being sweeter than whatever is being anticipated. On Christmas Eve, there's still one day left, there are still presents to open, people to see, food to eat. On Christmas Day, it's over. After December 25th, radio stations stop playing Christmas music, people start taking down their trees, everyone goes back to work. It's just so sad. We spend months preparing for Christmas, living each day in a sort of stressed, yet somehow warm and fuzzy, holiday stupor. Each day, the excitement mounts. And then suddenly, it's over and we're required to go on with our days as usual. Did you know The Twelve Days of Christmas are actually AFTER Christmas? I learned this fact only a month ago. I think it's marvelous, a way to ease out of the holiday the way we eased in. I, for one, still have my Christmas tree up, my wreath is still on the front door, and my Glee Christmas CD is still in my car stereo. And while I'm being forced against my will to take down my tree this weekend (tax season starts on Monday, so Kurt won't be around to take down the tree after this weekend), I plan to celebrate Christmas until the twelfth and final day. Happy 5th Day of Christmas!