23 Days Left! 23 Days Left!

The rain is coming down in buckets upon buckets, cats and dogs, a flood that can be likened to that of Noah's ark. My feet are thoroughly soaked and smell rather like wet dogs, no pun intended. It's one of those days when all you can think about is curling up on the couch, tucking a blanket up around your chin, and not letting your arms wander out except to bring hot cocoa to your lips or fast-forward to the good parts of your favorite Christmas movies.

And, let's not forget that's there is just mere 23 days until Christmas! In just 23 days, my brother and sister and I will rush into the living room where an exquisitely decorated tree and some mysterious, "overnight" presents are awaiting us. Now, we're not the kind of family that treats the opening of presents with the gusto that some people posses, diving into gifts in a messy free-for-all highlighted by squeals of delight and the sound of wrapping paper being devoured. Rather, we prefer a more orderly process. Everyone takes turns opening presents, so there's no confusion as to who you'll hug when you open that fabulous American Eagle blue blouse or pull out that highly-anticipated Mario Brothers Super Smash game from its colorful bag. We can get a little carried away sometimes and suddenly have more than one pair of eager hands clawing at their gifts at a time. However, we still consider ourselves civilized. Dad even brings out a box for leftover wrapping paper and tags.

After all of the presents have been thoroughly opened, cards read and reread, and wrapping paper put in its proper place - the trash - we'll turn to the kitchen. It has been a morning without food, so even the kids help set the table while Mom scrambles eggs and whips a previously prepared breakfast pie out of the oven, a long-standing Christmas tradition in our family. The food is enjoyed by all. To add to the festive mood, all gift hats, scarves, and slippers are usually worn during breakfast.

The rest of Christmas day is dedicated to trying out new clothes and video games, putting together doll houses, and watching TV while drinking egg nog, another tradition in my family. It will be a day of pajamas, sugar cookies, and multicolored socks.

And then, Mom will start thinking about when to take down all the gorgeous decorations, Dad will start thinking about bills, my brother will have reached level 20, and I will be thinking that it all went by too fast. But let's not think so far ahead - I've got 23 days to enjoy it.

Turkey or Chicken

On November 24, I brought my mother's special table cloth to school. Folded neatly, this precious cloth sat in the back seat of the white corolla as I drove myself, my two siblings, and the sputtering car to the all-grade school in the early hours before the sun and its followers prefer to be awake. We usually only saw the table cloth on certain occasions: visits by grandparents, holidays, and the rare dinner for an out-of-town guest. With this knowledge, it seemed a little odd for it to be sitting among the dirty shoes, school bags, and bad-perfume smell that filled the car, but it did have a purpose there. Our school needed to borrow a table cloth, and we were supplying one.

You see, out of that generous holiday spirit that touches so many during this season, my school administrators decided to serve us a Thanksgiving feast yesterday, because making us show up to school that day wasn't cruel enough. A private school of about 200, grades K-12, they managed somehow to fit EVERYONE into the cramped upstairs cafeteria, teachers, students, and a few chickens. Yes, we had chicken, Price's chicken, because otherwise we'd all be sick of turkey by Thanksgiving. We were also stuck with canned corn, apple sauce made by the kindergartners (most of us thought it better for our health to not touch this particular sauce), and lumpy "smashed" potatoes all heaped upon dinky little paper plates. Of course, there weren't enough chairs for everyone, so a select few were forced to stand while they bit into fried chicken wings and stabbed at green beans with plastic forks.

Oh, and they never actually used our table cloth - somewhere between the realization that kindergartners would be eating at the tables and the lack of table coverings for all of the tables, our lovely table cloth was deemed unnecessary. I must admit, however, that the pumpkin bread baked by the middle school (eat at your own risk) was quite delicious, and bringing Mom's table cloth to school felt a just a little bit scandalous, and the day might not have been a complete waste after all. Hopefully, by the time Christmas rolls around, their won't be any turkey or chicken at my school's buffet, and I'll be at home, where all good children should be during the holidays.