OK, OK ...
Maybe Christmas isn't half bad. Not that all my pre-Christmas groveling wasn't sincere (trust me, it was very
sincere), but I must say Christmas itself was quite nice.
A trip to Rome (Georgia,
not Italy - unfortunately) to spend the first Christmas with my father since I was a little girl proved to be less of a disaster and more of a relaxing family-style holiday that usually doesn't fit into that side of the family's agenda. It was a nice surprise, and so was the pot roast.
Yep ... Pot roast on Christmas ... bet you've never experienced that before. And banana pudding - made with love for me by my stepmother who once heard me say homemade banana pudding quite possibly could be the most delectable dessert ever. Screw the Jell-O stuff - that's just gross.
On top of the dinner and yummy dessert there was rum. Oh, glorious rum. Dark rum from Jamaica to be precise. My father's gift to me because he once overheard me say that rum runners quite possibly could be the most delectable drink ever.
My family listens to me and delivers.
Gifts were exchanged ... rum and cash for me; the mandatory Georgia Southern University hat for dad, along with the mandatory golf shirt and belt; and an inspirational book and bath robe for the stepmother. Everyone was happy, that is until Dad decided to try to figure out the DVD/VHS player he'd received as a gift from a stepson.
Multiple nasty words were heard coming from the den as he flashed through page after page of a quite large instruction booklet. Me, being the non-DVD player owner that I am, sat back and watched in confusion. How could it be so hard to figure out how to play "Mr. and Mrs. Smith"?
Without going into all the details, I'll just say that Dad has decided he has no use for DVD/VHS players and that he'll just reconnect his old VCR next week when he has the time.
And that was my Christmas ... minus the meltdown that brought Jon up to Chattanooga all the way from Atlanta at 11 p.m. Details of the meltdown are not available, but let's just say everything's OK. :)