Had myself a merry little Christmas

Christmas Eve I didn’t get out of work until after 6:00. Other years the management let us out early, but this year we hung in there until the bitter end of the day. I felt sorry for the clean-up shift that came on after we were done; I imagine most of them were not out of there until after midnight.

I stopped by the video rental place on the way home and picked up “Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood” and “Finding Nemo”. I then continued on to my favorite pizza place, and picked up a small extra cheese and pepperoni for dinner. Thus laden with the food and entertainment for the evening, I headed homeward, where three starving cats awaited.

I set up command central on the coffee table in the living room. Pizza, a Buckler (one of the few pseudo-beers that are actually drinkable), paper, ribbons, scotch tape, scissors, and presents were all carted in their turn to the table or sofa.

I lay the two videos down on the floor, and three curious cats approached. I asked them which one they wanted to see first. I was kind of hoping they’d pick “Finding Nemo”, but Warrior Princess stepped right up and choose “Ya-Ya Sisterhood” as though she’d spent a fair amount of time making up her mind and knew exactly what she wanted.

Well, I did say I’d let them choose, so I plugged that one into the DVD player, and we all settled into position (I with my pizza, Clueless on the floor to beg, Grey Menace on the back of the sofa to beg, and Warrior Princess on the back of the love seat to watch the festivities). Clueless and Menace both curled up when they realized food was not coming, and I settled into my pizza and movie. Warrior Princess decided half an hour into the film that she didn’t like it, and disappeared to somewhere for the rest of the evening.

I ate pizza, wrapped presents, watched the movies, and played with the cats until midnight. It might have been the best Christmas Eve since I was ten, and I heard sleigh-bells outside my bedroom window at midnight.

Christmas morning started off nicely. The cats let me have a bit of a lie in, and I didn’t get up until 6:30. First order of the day was to give them their Christmas meal. I’d purchased a can of turkey cat food, and each cat got a third of that, along with the usual amount of dry food. I was quite artistic about it; the soft food had to be just so in the middle of the food bowl, with the kibbles carefully placed in a circle around the base of the lump of turkey-pudding. I should have remembered to get some parsley for a garnish (both Clueless and the Grey Menace love parsley), but I forgot, so they got a little dried catnip sprinkled on top as a garnish instead. I must say, this was a far greater hit than the can of chicken cat food I tried to foist off on them Thanksgiving.

I showered, cruised the web a wee bit, and then decided to go over to my younger sister’s early. Her ex, The World Traveler, was visiting (she and her ex remain on very good terms, and in fact are better friends now than they ever were when they were married) and I hadn’t seen him in a few years, so I hoped to get a chance to chat with him for a bit.

I got to my sister’s in very good time, but just as I was getting ready to pull into her lot my radio station began playing Dar William’s song “The Christians and the Pagans”. I love this song, and so I passed up turning into her complex and instead drove around the block so I could listen to the song.

The song ended as I was again approaching her complex, but during the space of those few minutes, her ex had arrived and I now saw his car parked outside her townhouse. I pulled up, carted my stuff inside, and parked it by the fire. I pretty much kept that position staked out for the rest of the day.

It was good seeing The World Traveler again, and we ended up spending about an hour talking and catching up. I only recently learned that he contracted hepatitis C ten or more years ago, and he was particularly interested in learning about my experiences with the transplant. Most hepatitis C sufferers will never need a transplant, but I’m sure it’s still a nagging worry to anyone who’s been diagnosed and is living with the disease.

He left for his parent’s house, and Younger Sister and I spent a few hours quality time doing the bonding thing. I’ve only learned this year that the sister I see when she’s with other people in a social environment is not the sister she becomes in a one-to-one setting. In a group, she becomes the “legally blonde” ditzy/smart social butterfly, who obviously has brains but is hard to take seriously because she refuses to take herself seriously. One-on-one (which is a situation that seldom occurred until the events of the past year) she is thoughtful, incisive, and quick witted. I don’t know if this is a new development on her part or if (as I suspect) it’s simply a part of herself she didn’t feel comfortable sharing with me until now.

The Elder Sister, who always had the reputation of being practical and sensible, often acts exactly the opposite of this in parts of her life that I am not part of. She recently had a car accident (which sounds as though was mostly her fault) and she’s still waiting for word back on whether or not her car was totaled. The estimate comes out to over $6,000 to fix it, but it’s nearly a brand new car, and the insurance company hasn’t yet decided what it’s going to do ($4,000 of that is to replace the two airbags that went off). The Tuesday before Christmas she was served notice of some kind by a lawyer that the other person in the accident retained. Evidently this same law office is calling her directly and trying to deal with her, rather than deal with the insurance company the way they are supposed to do. The Elder Sister was absolutely panicked, and called the Younger Sister in an absolute frenzy, asking what she should do.

I merely note two points here:

1. I was not called at any point, either for advice or succor.

2. Older Sister calling Younger Sister in a panic is, on the surface, the equivalent of the Hawk appealing to the Rabbit in a panic.

It would appear that I have some major reevaluating to do of both sisters. I begin to understand what was going on last year this time with the argument over who was going to be the first to be tested as a match for a living donor for me.

It seems that I am introspective, hold very strong opinions, and am difficult to approach, by the way. I took that as a nice way of saying I can be taciturn, opinionated and aloof. It was said in a nice way though, and has given me something to chew over for a while. I can’t claim to be upset, since I can easily see where the perceptions come from. I suppose I could complain that I’m being misunderstood, but if I am misunderstood then it’s my own fault, not the fault of those around me. One important thing I learned some years ago is that it doesn’t matter what your intentions are, or what you feel inside, if it doesn’t reflect somehow on the outside. Of course, learning this lesson, and acting on it are two very different things.

The Elder sister showed up late morning, and we spent time making small talk, chatting about nothing in particular, and chowing down on the bowl of Chex mix that the Younger Sister had put out and then had to replenish several times. The gift exchange was much more organized and leisurely this year, and everyone kept within the $50 limit we’d set. That doesn’t sound like anything particularly noteworthy, but it’s probably the most astonishing thing I have to mention in this entry. This year’s Christmas exchange was probably the most enjoyable of any I’ve enjoyed in my adult life. The Sisters both agreed, and it seems a new tradition of setting a limit and sticking to it may have been set in my small family.

Dinner too was a small affair that, for once, did not exceed human limits to devour. Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, mixed steamed veggies, salad and rolls were the complete menu. We actually were in a position to take seconds AND enjoy them. In addition, the Younger sister did not end up stuck in the kitchen preparing a meal, but was able to stick around so the three of us spent time together. This was also unusual, and also (hopefully) the start of a new tradition.

Stuff? Yeah, I got stuff. The best present was from Dr. Nineteen Cats though. She left me a message to call her, and when I got home Christmas evening I called her back. She told me she’d gotten a “duplicate present that couldn’t be returned”, and wanted to see if I’d be interested. I’m no fool, of course, so I said, “Sure, what is it?”

The answer? “A paid night at the R****** Hotel in Scranton and a free dinner. It has to be used by January first, though.”

“Huh?” was my dense reply. “How in the world did you get two of those?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “But when you said you couldn’t afford to go to Scranton’s First Night festivities with us, I felt bad. I wanted to do this for you.”

With a smile in my voice, I called her a fink. We had agreed on a no gifts policy this year, since she was between jobs and I was just plain broke. I started to put up a fight, but it only lasted about five seconds. I spent the rest of the next half hour thanking her. And when we ended the phone call, there might have been a few tears in my eyes.