Christmas Day

I'm having a very merry Christmas, and I wish a merry Christmas to all of my friends in the blogosphere.

Thomas, Powell, Pie, and I were awake this morning around eight-thirty with our parents to open presents. The gifts for Powell and I were scant (though I did receive a globe set in metal casing and magnetically positioned to mirror the actual tilt of the Earth, with the one flaw being that the polarity is in reverse, causing the South Pole to constantly face upward no matter what I do), but Pie naturally made out like a bandit.

She benefited from the profusion of supernatural creatures apparently lining up to give her presents; not only did she receive packages from my parents and Santa Claus, but the Chocolate Monster who lives in our kitchen pantry left her a book of “monsterology,” so she can "learn more about all the wonderful monsters who live in my world" in exchange for some Ghirardelli chocolate we left out last night.

Now my mother is preparing dinner as my grandfather Hick Family, Aunt Eighties Hair, Slow Uncle, and Hick State Cousin (Beautiful Cousin's family) chat in the kitchen. Uncle Car Salesman, Aunt Ostentatious, Blonde Cousin, and Pretty Hair were due to be here from Native State around one o'clock, and we're expecting them at four or five. Pretty Hair and Uncle Car Salesman will leave tonight for Humid State, where they lived for two years before moving back north this year, but Aunt Ostentatious and Blonde Cousin will stay with us, for which I'm excited.

I'm working later on today, but it's not until after our dinner this evening and I'll only be in for a few hours.

While my presents were few, they were interesting and enjoyable.

Thomas and I, due to our shared fourteen-year-old boy’s stature, have made a habit of wearing one another’s clothes, and in some cases these exchanges have become so frequent and so long-lasting that ownership of certain items has transferred in everything but name.

Thomas decided to formalize this arrangement today by presenting me with two different Christmas gifts.

The first was a winter coat that he promised would be elaborately wrapped.

When he handed it to me this morning, however, I saw no ornamentation whatsoever save for a single tag stuck onto the chest addressing the garment to me and listing the provider as “Thomas,” scratched out and replaced with “Santa.”

“Nice, Thomas,” I said.

“Thanks,” he laughed.

The second thing was square shaped and wrapped in candy-cane paper. When I tore off the plastic sheath, I saw to my great surprise a shoe box.

“Thomas!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe you bought me shoes!”

He just stared at me, a wide grin on his face.

My eyes alight with joy, I opened the container, took in what was inside, and turned a serious look at my brother.

“Where’d you get the box?” I asked.

“My room,” he answered.

“I figured,” I nodded.

For in the alluring structure, behind the misleading wrapping paper and bright colors, all so suggestive of purchase in an actual store, were a pair of my brother’s shoes that had been sitting in our garage for months.

“I thought you actually went out and, you know, bought me something,” I noted dryly.

“Oh, of course not,” he replied.

Our house is full now, and so is my stomach, but I’m sure before long more room will develop there. A merry Christmas to you all.