Coming from a decent sized family means that there will be some running to do at the holidays just to be sure everyone is accounted for in the rounds. There is Christmas Eve, Christmas day and New Year’s all smushed into a solid week of partying. Countless brownies will be consumed, not to mention ham and booze, and although I generally try to be a healthy eater there is something about putting on winter hibernation weight that makes me think maybe I already was a bear in my former life. This year I will have to be especially careful not to tarnish my girlish figure since there will be no nicotine to balance out the calories. I refuse to weigh myself until March and will only begin to feel nervous if the size fours start to get snug.
This past weekend began the fun and festive holiday party season. With the exception of the actual holiday, it also ended the fun and festive holiday party season as well. I love getting all parties out of the way in one weekend, it makes recovery time that much easier and also means that when I get back on the stair stepper this week it won’t be pointless. The weekend whirlwind began over a late lunch Saturday with a friend that I haven’t seen face to face in well over 2 years. She is one of my closest but unfortunately we both lead such different lives these days that carving out the time to see each other was just impossible before we moved back to the area. Three hours flew by so fast, while we shared fries and laughter, and then it was off to party number one.
This party is one to look forward to every year because it is put on by my oldest and dearest friend and her husband; at this point I really consider her my second sister instead of just a friend. There are always tons of people there, mostly old and current friends from both of their jobs as well as some crazy fun neighbors and other various friends gathered along the way. It is a safe and embracing environment despite the fact that this year they had an ice luge and more alcohol than the packie. For those of you not from Boston, the packie is an affectionate term for the liquor store. We drank, ate, danced, ate, drank, laughed, ate, got warm by the fire pit, drank, ate, ate and then we ate. When we finally crashed on their spare bed at 1:30 AM I wasn’t sure what I passed out from, a full stomach of food or booze, but come the next morning caffeine was definitely in order just to make it to and through the next party.
To say that the final party of our weekend was a bit more low key would be an extreme understatement. All party goers are my mom’s side of the family, mostly sisters and brothers of my grandmother and their kids and their kids as well. We all wander around this party talking to each other, asking what we are up to, where we are living, how many kids we all have, all the while searching the deepest reaches of our brains for the name of the person we’re talking to and how they are related to who. No one usually lets on to the fact that they don’t remember you, if they don’t you just won’t get a hug. I got two hugs all day. Actually now that I really think about it, I think it was just one. The food was good and conversation happened but by next year people will again say how nice it was to meet Matt for the first time.
With only 21 days left in the 2007 calendar year I feel great about having such a fun time with so many fun and different people. Now the road to Christmas is paved with laughter, charitable donations and lots of baking and the year can end on a note of full bellies and contented hearts.