HOME FOR SHITMAS
It's only been 2007 for six days? It feels just like forever.
Not that everyone hasn't already asked and I haven't answered already, "It was great! How was yours?" But, one more time...my Shitmas was...well...not such a Shitmas at all, really. I actually had a good holiday. Oh, fuck...does this mean I'm losing my edge?
I went to mom's and hung out with sister, sister, sister, sister, and sister. Also step dad and step dad's son. And sister's boyfriend, also sister's boyfriend and sister's boyfriend. Grandma and her sister were also there, and Aunt. And Aunt's boyfriend. Much alcohol was consumed. Only one family fight broke out, and it had not one thing to do with anything I had done or said! I was actually a mediator for once. Wierd.
Everyone gave each other home-made or small, important gifts. There wasn't tons of plastic or tons of paper, just tons of booze, in a loving, caring environment of booze consumption and happy togetherness. A vegetarian meal was prepared for the holiday, for the first time, ever. Amazing. I never, ever thought I'd live to see that happen in my Italian household. The whole experience was almost gross with sweetness, but that doesn't really ever happen in my family, because everyone is a sarcastic bitch, in a really good, funny way. If things got too mushy, mom would pour a few nips of whiskey out, crank up the Sting and start doing white lady dance. Sister would jab hard waxing intense wisecrackery. Sister would battle with other sister in a battle of wisecrackery and wit, where the first person to reduce the other one to tears wins. And the balance of the proper putrid to mush equation would be restored. But that didn't happen. And for the first time in a long, long time, I know I speak for everyone when I say, we actually had a really beautiful Christmas.
My mom has this huge chest of papers and crap that she's been saving since before any of us were born. It's a giant bin of old treasures that she won't let any of us near. For Christmas, she gave me a free pass into the massive dust cave and I was given a few childhood tokens as parting gifts. Most of my childhood photos are dark and I can't be made out too well. But you can still see the gleam of trouble in my eye, even back then.
From top to bottom: my foot, me age 4, dad age 18