Tuesday, December 18, 2012

No Christmas For You!


I just found out that Christmas is cancelled. Not worldwide or you would have already heard about it. Not even the whole day, just dinner. Christmas dinner at my grandparents’ house is cancelled. Now we always knew that at some point the holiday dinners at the grandparents’ would come to an end because my grandparents are ninety, and Nana has been threatening to die for the last fifteen years.
But as of this posting, everyone is fine, yet dinner is still cancelled. Of course there was the heart attack incident at Thanksgiving, but I’m pretty sure the three year old is to blame for that, and anyway, what are the chances it will happen again?
The word is that my uncle is tired of cooking every holiday, although the only reason he cooks every holiday is because we thought he liked it. It’s not like we locked him in the kitchen and threw crackers and clam dip at his head if he tried to come out, although if I was going to fling dip at anyone it would probably be the clam. But I can understand, because I don’t enjoy cooking either, there’s so much preparation and work and you have nothing to show for it by the end of the evening. Maddening.   
Nana says she wants to go to a special Latin mass, which ok, I’m not a big church-goer (in fact I don’t even remember when I was last dragged screaming into one) but I like Latin, it’s my favorite language that isn’t English, so I get it. But we could have dinner after church.   
Then there was the “too old” argument. You’re never too old for Christmas. It’s a bullshit reason. And a sad reason. Plus, I don’t like change. I hear nobody likes change, but I feel like I don’t like it more than most. It’s documented. There was further nonsense about it being time to start our own traditions. Well, we already have a tradition and that tradition is going to her house. (I refer mainly to Nana here, because although there are two grandparents, she is the force.) The time to start a Nana-less tradition is when there’s no more Nana. Which we hope won’t be for a very long time. And it will be far more picturesque if when our new tradition starts we are lamenting Nana’s recent passing rather than lamenting the fact that she doesn’t want us around. We love you, Nana.
If it’s really cancelled, then we’ll eat dinner at my sister’s, which was always the back-up plan. Well, technically the someday plan for when the grandparents have gone into that good night. Gently I’m sure, because let’s face it, someone who’s been announcing their impending death for the last decade or two is probably not the rage, rage type. I know, and I do not approve, but what are you going to do? It’s not my fault that I’m insensitive about this. I’m not generally so que sera sera about death, but like I said, we’ve been hearing about it for a really long time and she’s worn me down. So I hope you’re happy Nana, the world is now judging me for being callus, and it’s your fault. It’s ok, she’ll never read this, and I’m positive she would laugh if she did.
Although, if Christmas is cancelled because I blogged about Thanksgiving then maybe she wouldn’t. I know that’s a tad self-aggrandizing, but that’s straight where my guilty mind went when I heard. I figured it was either the blog or our drunken revelry, but we get drunk every holiday, and the blogging is new. But the blogs were very endearing, and I didn’t use names, so come on family. But I don’t have to blog. I will swear off the Christmas day blog for you Nana. Tweets only, I swear. And I’m sure we can tone down the revelry and drunkenness. I’m sure we’re all ok with that. And by “we,” I mean all those that participate in the revelry, not the royal we that I sometimes fall into when in the throes of mental discourse.
I just wasn’t ready for a change this year. But it will be wonderful I’m sure. My sister is also an amazing cook, so the quality of the food won’t suffer, and on the bright side, no one at her house will complain when I have to put my Tofurkey (leave it alone spell-check) in the toaster oven. It’s possible I’ll be allowed to use a real oven, but I won’t get my hopes up.