Christmas Eve day. The tree is still on the porch; the livingroom has no decorations. My parents are exhausted from slingshotting to the coast for my uncle's funeral.

"I don't think we're going to put up the tree this year," my mother sighs. "I'm just not feeling it."

I don't like this idea, so when my mother goes to have a nap, I bully my father into helping me erect the tree (which involves a lot of climbing around underneath it and tying ropes to the trunk, and yelling at each other about whether it's straight yet or not).

I put on Patrick Steward reading A Christmas Carol (it's brilliant; it's on YouTube).

I tried to imagine what my mother would think when she came down from her nap to find Christmas had arrived in the livingroom, complete with Christmas lights, and every tree decoration me and my brother's ever made.

When she finally stumbled down the stairs, bleary and half-awake, she just said: "Oh!"

And I yelled: "CHRISTMAS!"

And that was about the end of it.

My mother gave me a very nice rainbow sweater, a couple of books, some nice jewellry, and my dad gave me a blank card with money in it.

Typical, and hilarious. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with the money. Maybe I'll put it aside and put it towards something worthwhile.

I love Christmas. I gave my mother a stack of cd's she really wanted, and some books, and some chocolate. Dad got a gift certificate to his favorite bookstore, a basket of cheeses and pate and stuff that I assembled, some super warm socks, and two pink t-shirts.

I love giving presents. I can't wait to get home and give my friends' their presents.

Oh, and Christmas Eve karaoke was AWESOME as usual. I closed the place out, and drank WAY too much gin.

Hi-fives to that!

.

Rosie.

Before&After