How I celebrated the birth of our lord and savior.

The holidays provided a refreshing respite from Corporate Behemoth. I hung out with Mr. Wonderful’s wonderful family. And then, we left for my parents’ house at 9 p.m. Christmas eve. The interstate and highways were completely empty – truly beautiful. We got in at about 1:15 Christmas morning.

As we made multiple, quiet trips to the cars to unload our bounty of luggage, gifts and dogs, I realized that if I really had my act together, we would have showed up at about 6 a.m. and made a pot of coffee, a la the “Peter!” Folger’s commercial from 1982 that they dredged up every holiday season until a few years ago.

But, alas. We showed up too late or too early and woke my mom from her Ambien haze. However, she didn’t actually remember any of our conversations the next day. Bygones.

It was great to hang with the fam. And I thoroughly enjoyed our Christmas day activity of sledding in the front yard. It started with me and Mr. Wonderful on the sled I received from Santa in 1978. Soon, my brother joined us with more sleds. And then my dad. And my mom and her bad back.

It devolved into boyfriend, brother and dad competing for who could sled the farthest. A stick was placed in the snow to mark the last legal spot for using your arms to further your cause. My mom took post as official.

I’ve never laughed so hard.

It was pretty warm, so the snow started to melt, making the sledding run faster. At one point, my darling brother pulled me aside and said, “Speed is just too dangerous for you, Cha Cha. Why don’t you go over there and stretch?”

Did I mention my brother is a coach?

And do I have to mention that I then tackled him to the ground and threw snow down the back of his jacket? Probably not – I’m assuming that part is a given.

By the end of it all, Mr. Wonderful had a knot the size of a kiwi sticking out the side of his knee. And none of us could move from the beatings we had given our bodies and the exertion of lugging our sorry asses up the hill over and over again.

Good times, indeed.

Then, as is my people’s custom, we ate lasagna and watched Our Favorite Holiday Movie.

Of course, I’m talking about the Eddie Murphy/Dan Aykroyd gem, Trading Places.

Seriously. It’s the funniest, bestest holiday movie ever. I think we all know it verbatim. On our first date, Mr. Wonderful mentioned out of the blue that it’s one of his favorite movies ever, and I knew we would be together.

Besides. What Christmas is complete without a topless Jamie Lee Curtis?

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