Christmas Wrap-Up January 1, 2008

‘Twas the season for Christmas parties, and as such, I baked up a storm (subsequently gaining some weight – I had to test it all before I subjected my friends to my baking!) and assaulted other peoples’ homes (see ”Only in Toronto, More Footwear & Plant Murderer” for a refresher on my attempted floracide). On the day of my friend Sarah’s Christmas party, wouldn’t you know it, but we got a massive snowfall (thankfully, not quite massive enough for the city to have to call in the Army again. Lord, that was embarrassing). I think we got at least a foot of snow, more in some places, in a matter of hours. It was AWESOME!

Of course, being the intrepid, adventurous souls that we are, my friend and her boyfriend and I packed into my little Demon Buggy (because the boyfriend’s car was plowed under and he couldn’t get out!) and very, very carefully made our way to Sarah’s. It took a lot longer than usual, and there was some sliding and fishtailing, but we made it in one piece (or three, as the case may be) and even found parking right across from Sarah’s apartment (unheard of!). It was just all so ridiculous that we pretty much laughed all the way there, then all the way back. Or, it could have been the food – Sarah made this pulled-pork that was SOOOO good. It melted in my mouth! And, there was a chocolate fountain… all kinds of salads and sweets and good stuff. YUM.

Strangely enough, everyone that was invited showed up! In the middle of a snowstorm, the promise of free food and gifts pulled us all out of the warmth and safety of our homes and onto the TTC or into a car. I, of course, was the ONLY single person there. Pathetic. Even the one other girl that I’d had it on good authority was still single showed up with a new boyfriend (who looks like he might be a keeper – he fit in entirely too well)! Damn. I’m officially the LAST single person in this city.

Speaking of single, I made the mistake of watching a show on TVO the other night called “Loveable”. It was a documentary about people who are smart, funny, attractive, in their 30s, 40s and 50s and still single, with no explanation. The first woman interviewed was describing her love life, and how she would LIKE to be married and have children, but that the opportunity had just never presented itself. Then I started thinking about the Harpies at work (one of whom made a comment about wanting a good man in the New Year… Ack! She’s over 50 and still looking?! PLEASE, Gods, DON’T let that happen to me!!) and how afraid I am of becoming them… and suddenly I was crying. I think I watched all of about 15 minutes of the documentary before I had to turn it off and go to bed. Of course, I was up all night, arguing with myself about my single status, and trying to convince myself that no matter how it may look, I won’t be single for EVER. I hope. Yikes! Way to end the year, eh?

Christmas at home was actually really nice – instead of the crazy extended family descending (or us, having to pack up and drive back into the city on Christmas Day), everyone kind of did their own thing, leaving my immediate family to ourselves. It was lazy and quiet and perfect. Of course, I had a bitch of a cold, but I was willing to soldier through for turkey and my Mom’s Broccoli-Cauliflower Casserole. YUM! We don’t open presents on Christmas Day, as my sister goes to her boyfriend’s parents’ house for dinner there, then joins us at my parents’ house for Boxing Day. So, Boxing Day morning was our version of Christmas morning. We drew names this year, and each person only bought presents for one person – which was a good idea of my sister’s, and saved me a BUTTLOAD of money.

It was almost more fun to discuss our clever buying practises after all the gifts had been opened, than the actual opening of the gifts themselves. I got a DVD set of a show my father likes for $45 (normally $80-$90), my mother got me a camera for $40 (normally WELL over $150 for the lens alone!)… My Mom and my sister and I pretty much compared deals – it was too funny! The deals were almost more impressive than the presents themselves (and I’m not going to lie – I LOVE to tell the people who admire my new camera that my Mom got a killer deal on it).

My father’s extended family came on Boxing Day evening for our annual pot-luck dinner, which was lots of fun, as always. I was still sick and had, by this time, completely lost my voice, which prompted everyone in the family to make comments about how “quiet” our family gathering was this year. Har, har, har. This is a family where volume is everything; at our events, whoever is loudest is right. I can’t imagine that my being voiceless made any kind of impact, whatsoever.

We did our annual gift exchange, which involves us all bringing a gift worth $10, placing it under the tree and drawing numbers. Whoever has number one picks a gift, unwraps it and shows it to the room. Then number two can either choose a gift from under the tree or “steal” number one’s gift. And so it goes. Of course, it gets VERY loud, and almost bloodthirsty in nature. It’s SOOO much fun!

There’s one gift that gets given every year – a pair of women’s musical panties. They’re red, g-string and about a size two, if that. A few years ago, my Uncle Ed got the panties in the gift exchange and it was so funny (especially when he put them on, over his pants) that no one stole them from him during the game. Tragically, that was Uncle Ed’s last Christmas with us. The year after he passed away, my Aunt dug out the panties, wrote a little note, attached a photo of Uncle Ed wearing the panties, and placed them under the tree as a gift.

When (of COURSE, who BUT?) my father picked the gift and opened it, my Aunt got up and announced her plan to the room: she wanted these panties to be re-gifted every year, and each year, we would add a photo of the person who’d received them, wearing the panties. Wouldn’t you know it, but I got the panties this year, which is, of course an honour – I just wish it didn’t go with all the pictures! Eeep. You all know how I feel about having my photo taken. I certainly wasn’t about to try and wrangle my great, white, Irish ass into those tiny size two panties! So, I perched them on my head and struck my best “Canada’s Next Top Model” poses (with my sister – the official photographer – yelling at me, “You’re moving too much! It doesn’t look GOOD!” Gee, thanks! ). So embarrassing, but DEFINITELY fun!

As a great end to my little vacation (all of which I was sick and unable to speak), my car decided to give up the ghost. My brother and I had rounded up all our stuff, sneaked leftovers from the fridge and loaded up my car. We were on our merry way back to the city, when my brother suggested we stop to get a coffee on the way. Well! Far be it from ME to pass up the opportunity for caffeine! So, we pulled over at the Tim’s on the way, and I waited in the car while my wee bro ran in and got the coffees. I was sitting patiently in my car, watching the perfect snow fall (it was that perfect snow, where you can see each flake, and they all look like something out of an animated movie), when I noticed white smoke. Coming from the front of my car! ACK!!

I turned off my car, popped the hood and jumped out to see what the HELL was happening. After some careful poking and prodding, my brother and I determined that my radiator fan wasn’t working. Excellent. So, my car had overheated and the engine temperature dial never moved. Stupendous! Grrr. I tried calling my father, but since I couldn’t do more than whisper, I had to hand the phone over to my brother, who knows even less about cars than I do (if that’s possible). Imagine me, jumping with frustration and waving wildly, trying to get my brother’s attention as he talks to my father, to tell him which part of the engine isn’t working. Urg.

There must be some cosmic joke about me and Canadian Tire, because this is now the second time in as many years that my car has overheated in a fast-food joint, within spitting distance of a Canadian Tire. Weird. This time, though (after I sent my brother to do reconnaissance) I couldn’t get my car in to be seen – apparently December 27th is a busy day in the Crappy Tire. Who knew. So, I had to drive (very quickly, with no stopping – to keep it from overheating again) back to my parents’ house, where my father had a look at my car when he got home (he had been with my mother, driving my Grandmother back to her house). Wouldn’t you know it, but my father took one look at my radiator and declared that there was no way I should have been driving my car – apparently, the whole radiator, which SHOULD be on four brackets, was balancing on ONE. ACK! So, my poor Ginger has been towed to the garage, where she awaits medical treatment. I shudder to think how much this is going to cost! Anyone care to make a donation to the “Save Ginger” fund?