I'm at my grandparents' house in Dallas. They don't have an internet connection. So, I'm forced to connect via a phone line, AOHell and with my brother's laptop. I apologize in advance if there are typos, I have problems using this tiny little keyboard. I don't like laptops. I like my computers big and spread out over a large area.
My grandparents also don't have cable, so I'm forced to converse with the fam. It's actually not so bad, except when we run out of stories and my dad starts repeating himself. Then it's torture.
I did find out some cute things about my grandparents, though. For example, they could have gotten married before my grandpa was shipped off to Europe for the war (WWII), but then my grandma would have had to go live with his parents, who scared the bejeezus out of her. So, she decided to stay in Dallas and build planes. Cool. She was a riveter. Ophelia the riveter. Grandma rocks.
Tomorrow, a bunch of my relatives are coming over and we're going to spend the day making tamales. It's a tradition dating back to lord knows when. We all get together around a big table covered with newspapers and spread masa on corn husks until we drop. It's fun. I swear it is. Maybe you just have to be here. The best part, however, is eating the tamales when they are done. Mm Mm Good!
I remember when I was little, Christmas was the absolute best holiday ever. Barbies, people! BARBIES! After I was deemed too old to play with Barbies (20, ha, no, 13), Christmas stopped being about gifts for me. I don't get much excitement out of sweaters and gift certificates. No, what I love about Christmas now is GIVING gifts.
I pride myself on having a 98% success rate in the field of gift buying. People love my presents and I get more satisfaction out of watching people open the presents I got them than by opening my own. Perverted, I guess, but true.
I got my dad an absolutely hilarious calendar from Whitehouse.org, which isn't what it sounds like. It's the opposite, actually. I also got my brother a coffee mug from there. I got my mom David Liss' new book, the 'Coffee Trader', since she loved 'A Conspiracy of Paper' so much. I loved it, too, actually. If you're looking for a good book, that's fan-freakin-tastic. I got my bestest friend a t-shirt from J-List that says 'Beware of Perverts', but in Japanese. It's awesome.
Ooh. There's fruitcake calling. I know what you're thinking, 'fruitcake, gross!', and normally, I agree with you. But there is something utterly wonderful about a well made fruitcake. The Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana, Texas, makes the best fucking fruitcakes you will ever eat. My grandparents drive down to Corsicana every holiday season and pick up like 50. AND WE EAT THEM ALL!
Anyway, there's some DeLuxe Fruitcake calling me and I must answer it's siren's call, even if it means I must be dashed against the rocks like a tragically deceived sailor. Of course, the only things that will be decieved by this fruitcake are my thighs.
Happy Holidays, people! Spend some time with your family, eat some wierd casserole thing with either velveeta, cream of mushroom soup or both and enjoy the socks you will inevitably get.
