Wouldn't Have Believed It If I Hadn't Seen It With My Own Eyes

In Houston, TX, we had snow on Christmas, 2004. Mark the day.

To most Northerners, this is not something to get excited over. To most Southerners, it's something major. But to a transplanted Yankee, who hasn't had a white Christmas since childhood, it is something that has the potential to bring tears to your eyes. Not that I would admit to it.

The snow is gone, but it's still in the 30s which is bitterly cold for Houston.

We went to my parents ranchette near Katy, TX and had a lovely time. I cooked, my sister cooked, and my Jewish grandmother, who likes to come down for Christmas just to torture my mom, made chopped liver. We drank lots of wine/Frangelico.

My little sisters decided to play Santa for the girls, and ended up scaring Emma so bad she wouldn't go to sleep. They got Gwen and Em into bed, then crept outside their window and one of them, in her deepest voice, said, "Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas!" Poor Emma. She didn't even cry or speak she was so frightened. She just ran out of the room and clung to me. I couldn't pry her off with a crowbar. I was pretty steamed. It set back my Christmas set-up by about 3 hours.

Jethro and I went to bed at about 3am on an air mattress we had set up in my step-dad's office. We had sex. It kept us sane. Besides, there is something so lovely and forbidden about doing-it in your parents' house (my parents' house at any rate).

This morning, poor Jethro was awakened by an eardrum shattering rendition of Joy to the World. The room we were sleeping in housed the speakers heard all over the house. They were right above his head. My stepdad turned on the stereo while everyone gathered to open presents, forgetting that Jethro was in the room sleeping. Poor man has been a little deaf all day, but that could be selective.

I bought the girls a ridiculous amount of presents, but their favorites seem to be these little barking dogs I bought them. Emma's is a chiuaua she calls "Pinga", and Gwennie's is a pink poodle she calls "Poodle".

Gwennie ripped through her gifts like a dynamo, her eyes bright and squealing with glee. Emma opened hers slowly, hugging each toy tightly before moving on to the next.

Gwennie had asked me for everything she had seen on TV this year. I spend most of my pre-Christmas thinking about what Gwennie would like. Her happiness makes the whole endeavor worthwhile, just because she's such a stinker when she's miserable.

Emma asked me for one thing. She saw a commercial for The Littlest Pet Shop and came up to me and asked in her wee little voice, "Mommy, can I have that puppy?"

I said yes and told her she could have a pony too. That kid can wrap me around her finger like no other.

All in all, it was a good day. Aside from a few tiffs with my ragingly bitchy sisters, it was quite pleasant. I hope everyone else had a wonderful holiday.