Rather Than a Big Dinner

It is a fine excuse to get everyone together.  That I’ll say.  My stepson and his new bride are home. I reflect on times I brought my new wife, or my new child “home” for Christmas.  It’s easier to have people return home to you then to travel somewhere and do the returning.  But the pressure to make the ceremony meaningful and worthy of the title “Christmas” is certainly more pronounced with everyone around your own hearth. 

Shopping in Beijing is only so much fun.  You guys in the U.S. have it easy.  I suppose someone in Mongolia might say that to me.  I searched on line.  I went to malls.  I looked over the inflight possibilities on the flight home from Japan.  I hit up Uniclo.  I hit up H&M.  But at the end of the day the present buying aspect is all a bit forced, as the choices are limited, and does feel uncannily like the same routine in the same places as you pursued, last year.  Remember, you got her a green coat last year . . . and she didn’t like it.  I hadn't thought about that since last Dec. 

I had an idea riding home on my bike two days earlier to get a turkey.  I stopped by the market and the bald guy from Henan, (everyone at Jenny’s is from Henan), confirmed that we could get turkey’s this year.  He brought it on Christmas Eve and I was surprised to see it was actually from the U.S.  Idaho, in fact.  At Thanksgiving we had to put up with the Chilean birds and they don’t include the innards for gravy.  But this bird was frozen and there was no way it would defrost in time for the dinner my wife was planning for Christmas Eve. 

And so there will be a bird for Christmas day.  I popped it in the oven around 10:00AM after we’d finished with the presents.  I only made a few other things to go along with it but this would be enough.  The Mrs. suggested things suddenly smelled greasy but I liked the smell of a big bird and told everyone we’d have a late lunch, rather than a big dinner. 

My daughter’s boyfriend joined later in the day.  Fresh back from Toronto he had a matching Christmas sweater for he and my daughter.   It looked like Lebron James profiled in the cameo, but when I asked it turned out to be Drake.  I see.  That’s the only Canadian rapper I know.  If you can call his song: “I’m leaving.  I’m going.  I’m out” actually hip hop.  The bird was juicy, the other dishes worked out all right and it was all rather Christmas-like to have a feast this way, in the cold, late afternoon light.  

When you have many people for Thanksgiving there often isn’t much of any meat left after the feast but with only a half a dozen people to feed there was much excess to enjoy and there will be, for days to come.

Tuesday, 12/25/18