Sunday 24 December 2000

Pic of the day: OK, this should be the last of the food for today.

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve tempted me, and I ate.

It started innocently enough, with a light breakfast. It's Sunday and most places are closed, the notable exception being the gym where Super Big Brother works. (Not all stereotypes apply, but yes, you already know a lot about him from that one fact.) I guess sweating in the gym for an hour or two makes people more comfortable with the Christmas dinner.

The next traditional meal is the rice porridge. An almond is hidden in the porridge, and the lucky soul who finds it can claim a reward. Obviously this was devised in some remote past as a way to make children eat the cheap porridge, so they would not be overly hungry in the evening. This makes no sense any longer, as there is more than enough food at all meals.

Before I even had the time to get really hungry again, Christmas dinner was upon us. (Here in Norway, the Eve is the centerpiece of Christmas, or Yule as it is still pronounced here.) Different parts of the country have different traditions for this dinner, and some families have broken out and adopted new traditions - mainly the American custom of eating turkey for the holidays. The Super family, being quite Pro-American, eat two turkeys for this dinner. I ate somewhat more moderately, but I still had my fill and then some. The meat wasn't bad, but it was still easily recognized as a dead animal. This does not wet my appetite, as I always have this "it could have been me" feeling. Probably from my childhood, where some of my best friends ended up on the dinner table while my enemies roamed free. (They still do, but I no longer consider them enemies.)

Snacks and various liquid continued while we spent about 3 hours opening all the boxes. (Christmas Eve is also Boxing Day here in Norway.) Santa Claus also made an appearance, to the delight of the 4 years old who recognized his grandfather. The Flynn Effect is obviously still active.

As the night started in earnest, we had more food, ice cream and cakes. And there was much eating and rejoicing. At this time SuperWoman and I were both quite tired, but consented to playing some strange game she had bought. This consisted of strange words or obscure movies and such which one should guess at. The most convincing guesses get points, even when they are dead wrong. And they usually were. Only a couple hours after midnight did we close the show.

***

The heap of boxes had grown significantly, but then again the whole family and then some was there. All except Old Friend, who is in Kristiansand with her husband and two small children. Oh, and except the two who died at various times. On the bright side, there was a pregnant daughter-in-law and her son. And then there was I. Great Earth Mother was there till the boxes were opened, and Designer Girl stayed awake for a change.

One of the family members estimated the boxes to be worth about $3000, but that was before they were opened. The laments about holiday materialism were by and large died down by the time we opened the presents. Though near the end, SuperWoman did draw a comparison between the enormous heap of toys in front of her nephew and the children she had seen in Africa, living in earthen huts and barely having food, much less toys. She did not mention that her own gifts probably were worth far more than the kid's, his being mostly toys. (And a CD player, OK.)

As the second gift from me to SW was unwrapped, she started to look nervously around, and eventually slunk to my side and settled there. "They are going to stone me when they come to the third" she confided. There was some shouting, but she was not stoned. (And only moderately drunk.) But I suppose she should wait a couple days before she broach the subject of the family collecting some money for her new glasses. (The old ones broke on the way to Africa, if I understood correctly.) She hopes to get new glasses for her birthday, as lenses are a bit tough on the eyes seven days a week.

Yeah, I guess I still love her like myself, at the very least. And I've more or less given up on changing it. I wouldn't be surprised if it lasts my life out. I suppose I'll just have to live with it. Bummer.