Due to the fact that my sister had to work, we had two Christmas mornings (well, one Christmas afternoon). Sarah and Mike came over around ten to exchange presents before heading to Mike's parents' place in Aurora, and when Holly showed up we finished unwrapping. My family was really generous and I ended up with a mess of new DVDs and clothing.

The relatives showed up soon after for Christmas dinner. We played Guitar Hero III for a bit (I suck) and a little Simpsons Clue. I won two bucks off of a scratch ticket my aunt gave me. The dinner was great and knocked me unconscious for a second holiday in a row. I just know that I'm developing a pattern in which I'll be the old-timer at family gatherings who passes out on the couch right after dinner. My nieces and nephews will poke at me with whatever Nerf toys they opened that morning and I'll pretend not to notice.

When everyone had left I put on The Seventh Seal for my folks, not remembering how depressing it was. As per usual I channel surfed until the wee hours before hitting the sack.

Christmas Eve was standard fare, that is, nice time spent with family over lots of food and laughter at movies that used to fascinate us as kids. We had our yearly buffet dinner at the Carousel restaurant and everyone got a little camera happy. I'm sure the evidence will pop online somewhere.

Afterwards we came home and popped in Jeannot Szwarc's Santa Claus: The Movie, which stars Dudley Moore as a pun-happy elf and John Lithgow as an overacting tour-de-force. I hadn't seen it in years and it was good times reliving the memories it brought up.

I waited until much later on in the night to put in Scrooge, which plays more effectively as a thriller if it's watched in sync with the appearances of the ghosts. Sims is amazing in the role, of course, but the version really wrings the gothic elements out of the narrative better than any other. My mother always stays up late to take care of the turker for the Christmas Day dinner, and I rewound the ending so that she could see her favorite part (when Scrooge's cockney housekeeper freaks out).

It took me awhile to get to sleep due to all of the sugar and coffee I'd ingested earlier in the evening. All in all, a status quo Christmas Eve, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Today was a bit better, mood-wise. I managed to get a page of my essay done thereby eliminating some of the stress it's been causing. Jimmy Stewart helped. I had a conversation with my folks about what I was planning to do after Toronto (even though I'm not sure, it helps me to weigh my options out loud). I think it also helps me to make it clear to them that if I do decide to follow through with the teaching thing, I'll have to make myself mobile and go where the jobs are. I've always felt a kind of fear that prevents me from straying too far from home for too long, as if it's going to disappoint my parents if I move too far away. That fear will need to be dispelled in time for my own good.

I watched Home Alone on television later on. Tomorrow night is the traditional family dinner at the Carousel restaurant followed by more movie watching. I used to take walks on Christmas Eve, really late at night. Nobody was ever out on the road and everything felt as close to holy as it ever can. I would deliver letters and compilations to mailboxes in other neighborhoods, walking in the middle of the street, trying to find in the silence the part of me that still acknowledged Santa's speeding presence in the air.

I have a memory of one Christmas morning. The sun hadn't yet fully risen and my siblings and I were all wide awake. My dad dressed up as Santa and doled out our gifts, laughing loudly before leaving through the front door and disappearing. Minutes later he showed up and none of us made the connection. My parents stood by the back door in the kitchen claiming they could see Santa taking off from the house and heading into the air. They waved through the window. My siblings and I tried to sneak a look, but they wouldn't let us. Something incredibly magical stayed only slightly out of reach.

You get back on the latest flight to paradise
I found out from a note taped to the door
I think I saw your airplane in the sky tonight
Through my window, lying on the kitchen floor

It's a strange correlation, I know. But it's one I make. Especially when I'll be on a plane in five days.