Happy Holidays, love The Dopeness
Now that I’m an adult, with my own apartment and an actual vacuum, I began to look at “going home for the holidays” much differently than I did when I was in college. Back in those days, winter break was just an excuse to get drunk for a month with a group of people that knew you when your Tamagotchi was still alive. The alcohol-fueled reunion would, without fail, consist of everyone asking each other the basic three questions: 1) “where do you go again?” 2) “what’s your major?” 3) “what do you want to do when you graduate?” And boy, once those three questions were out of the way, did the good times ROLL.
Anyways, this year I was ready to bring my A-game to the holidays. I had already gotten all my gifts for my parents, which I might add, did not include hand-made coupons for “Backstreet Boys performance of your choice” or “homemade cake (**cake may or may not be homemade)” so I was really on top of my shit this year. Feeling excited and in the Christmas mood, I called Amy (my mother) yesterday to discuss how we were going to kick it up a notch this year.
“What are you up to?”
“Oh I was just at the store getting a few things.”
“Like Christmas dinner? Ingredients to make Christmas cookies? The Celine Dion Christmas CD?”
“No, Kate. I got you some pickles- I’ll figure out the rest later this week. It’s not like we’re going to be snowed in and I won’t be able to get to the grocery store. People in Florida don’t get crazy about advanced holiday preparations. And since when did you get so concerned?”
“HURRICANES AMY! Dammit, hurricanes are as common as pastel down there. And I mean, I have a microwave so I care about these things now.”
I had no choice but to hang up, turn on Elf and brainstorm how to get my mother more involved in the holiday spirit. It’s like once she moves to Florida, things like Santa Clause and Michael Buble move right on out.
But then it hit me- Amy was right. Christmas wasn’t about whose house looked most like the inside of a Crate and Barrel Holiday catalog, or whether or not there was a Christmas ham cooking in the oven. Our family has always had a simple Christmas, which has always allowed us to focus on what’s important: family.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that everyone celebrates holidays differently- some experience a real life recreation of Griswold Christmas Vacation, while some grab a glass of wine and gather around as the eldest daughter serenades them with Everybody (Backstreet’s Back). And whether or not you own a swifter or a damn shop-vac, going home for the holidays should always mean the same thing- going home.
Happy holidayz lovas- from me (and Amy) to you
