My mom complains about not getting enough face time on my blog (“We just had a wonderful Christmas and you didn’t even blog about it?!”), so here’s looking at you, Jeanie. I was really just trying to spare you poor readers who had to sift through the thousands of other blogs of people recapping their 2007s, talking about the shiny new iPods and luxe cashmere sweaters they found wrapped under the tree, and how they were going to have to go on month-long diets to counteract all they ate over the holidays (I, coincidentally, dropped a few pounds over the holidays – from the Dominican Republic, I’m sure – though I likely gained it all back last weekend thanks to free-flowing hot chocolate and an excess of double-stuffed Oreos). So now that those other blogs are all said and done, I’m here to wish you a merry Christmas from the Peanut Gallery…just a month late.
SVV made his second trip to Tennessee to spend a week with my, more often than not, eccentric family. Come to think of it, I’m a little surprised that he’s stuck around this long, or rather voluntarily accompanied me to the Deep and Dirty South twice in six months, what with my grandmother asking every 2.5 seconds who he is (she has dementia, it’s sad actually, but can also be wildly entertaining at times), my mom inquiring as to when he wants kids (which we’ve mutually concluded may be never), and my grandfather blaring Fox News at the highest possible decibel since his “ears (read: hearing aids) don’t seem to be working!” (Ed. Note: My grandparents have been living with my family for the past two years because my grandmother needs looking after. My mom is a saint in Chico’s clothing. Come to think of it, so is Dad, only in golf shirts and unmatched socks.) My dad, however, is just happy to have a drinking buddy and someone he can drag out onto the golf course with him. Spending more than two decades suffocated by one chatty wife and two demanding daughters, I’m sure he revels in having another mellow man around the house with whom to indulge in “manly” things (like watching footballs and consuming gallons of Jack Daniels).
Another reason I chose not to divulge the 10 glorious days I spent in Tennessee was, well, um, because there wasn’t that much to tell (sorry, Mom!). It was fabulous, don’t get me wrong: After nearly five straight weeks on the road for assignments, not to mention just living in Manhattan, I like nothing more than sitting. And doing nothing. And sitting some more. Half the time I was home, it’s safe to say I didn’t remove my pink-and-darker-pink plaid pajamas. Sure, I left the house. About every third day, when my pajamas needed washing. I mean, someone had to drive the three miles to and from the video store. Or to Liquor Barn to restock the bar. Or to find coffee at the only place that sells it past 10 a.m. (oh wait, sorry, we never actually did find anyplace that sells coffee past that late hour – my bad!). And I did drag Scott to the bustling town of Bell Buckle, TN, to have lunch at the famed Bell Buckle Cafe with two friends, Hillary and Spencer, who will soon be our San Francisco neighbors. But other than that, our vacation primarily consisted of watching season one of Heroes, eating A LOT, drinking some more, and playing ping pong tournaments in the football-sized game room of my parents’ new house. (They coincidentally decided to build said mansion after I left home for good, to lure me back to visit more often. I’m onto you, parents. And yet it’s working, it seems, as I went back to Tennessee NINE TIMES in 2007 alone.)
And so you can see where the problem lies in blogging about my holidays. You guys simply don’t care that I drank pumpkin egg nog to the point of vomiting, or that Scott and I almost got caught for trespassing when we took my Canon XTi to a private property to test its limits. Or the fact that my mom suddenly caught wind of Banana Republic and bought me the entire winter collection for Christmas. Or that I kicked everyone’s a$$ in foosball time and time again (sorry, guys, but I so did!). So in the spirit of this week’s photo roll, I’m going to keep it coming. Below is pictorial testament to how I Spent My Christmas Vacation.
Where my girls at? Childhood gal pals. I’d name them all but you don’t really care. I’m the one in the red dress (obvi) with the out-of-season tan that is NOT fake-and-bake (thanks, Maldives/Miami/Dominican Republic!).
There’s The Vein again! Gah! Sister and Sister, both sans makeup and a bit hungover (her)/tired (me).
I have a new cousin, Cameron Jane. Why did no one tell me about her?? My parents are in their late-50s, erm both 39 I mean, and already have eight grand nieces and nephews. They’re still holding out for grandbabies. Good thing Kari’s 19 and should have her first in three years or so.
Dad after a few too many beers/scotches/fruity girl drinks (’tis the norm), fanning himself with a leaf at the Melting Pot. We had to cook all of his food for him. And don’t even get me started on how it took an hour to order.