The Flu That Stole Christmas – Part I

I can’t tell you one thing about the book, How the  Grinch Stole Christmas.  I feel like maybe I never read it the same way I’m pretty sure I never read Horton Hears a Who.   I think we had all Dr. Suess’s other books.

I remember being in high school and over at a girl’s house I liked.  That night, The Grinch  was on television, and I pretended to be excited by saying, “Oh yes, a classic.  Can’t wait!”  We settled in and I remember thinking, “I don’t honestly think I’ve seen this before.”

I didn’t really get into it, and was kind of put off by the narrator who sounded super-creepy to me.

This reminds me – not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, but I was on a date in high school once and madly in love.  She and I went to go see Philadelphia.  I was nervous, so I drank seven Milwaukee’s Best prior to getting picked up.  Since I got up to pee three times during the film, plus I was hammered, and also that I was constantly wondering if I should make a move, I didn’t pay attention to the plot.  Near the end of the movie, I noticed everyone around me crying.  I actually whipped up fake tears and pretended to blot my eyes.  I had no idea what was going on.  Didn’t get any afterwards.

So, I’m not a Grinch fan.  Sorry.  Plus, It’s a Wonderful Life is basically a perfect movie, so I don’t really feel the need to watch anything else.

My family had structured this year’s Christmas holiday the same way we always do.  My sister comes in from NYC, I drive down from Chicago, and we start preparing.

For the past fifteen years, we’ve hosted a holiday party at our house the night of Christmas Eve.  We don’t send out invitations, and it’s basically a “come when you can” event.  People start dribbling in at around 6:30pm and leave around midnight.  We used to end the party at 10:40pm so that we could make it to the 11:00pm church service.  But several years ago, we said, “Screw it!” and now we don’t get to church.

Before judging us you have to realize that we have a lot  of cleanup to do.  Anywhere from 30-50 people funnel through this party, and we go all-out with food and drink.  It’s a lot of prep and tear-down.  We used to get home from church at 12:20am and then stay up until 2am cleaning.  And pretty much every glass and dish has to be washed by hand.  It sucks.

By eliminating the church component, we can get to bed by around 1am.

This year my sister brought her longtime boyfriend, Al.  We don’t always get to see Al because often times he works through the holidays.  I was grateful he was able to come, not only because he’s a fun, good guy, but also that he’s so proactively helpful, I don’t have to do much around the house.  He’s always asking my mom what he can do next, which allows me to waste time in the ways I love.

Al and Dana also brought their two dogs with them, both Haveneses.  Because it’s insanely expensive to fly home from NYC to Peoria in general, and then also kenneling the dogs or flying with them, they decided this year to drive.  It’s a long trip, but they made it.

The Christmas Eve party went off without a hitch.  We had a great time and the last guest didn’t hobble her way out of there until  after 1am.  It was at about 1:30am that I realized the room was spinning and I needed to sit down.  I wasn’t sure if it was just too late, or if I had consumed too many St. Pauli Girl non-alcoholic  beers (I had four).  I felt like a dick, but I announced to the family that I had to go to bed.  I was  nauseous.

I’m sure the  initial  thought from the rest was that I was just trying to get out of work – and, hey, I’m not above faking a little stomach ache to avoid drying dishes.  This time, however, I really was ill.  Not illin’ mind you.  Just ill.

Part II comes tomorrow!