Someone get that guy a drink.
Ahhh Christmas ... the warm sounds of laughter, screaming matches echoing throughout the house, wine being uncorked, and profanities being slurred between a loving family ... If I was still twenty I would be scouring the house for unwrapped presents. But alas, with age comes maturity, and now I sit at the big kids' table at a spot close to the Merlot. Tomorrow is the eve of Christmas, a sacred time that I spend with my family and best friend, and between the five of us we comprise a ratio of 3 Jews: 2 Catholics. My dad celebrates his Jewish heritage by watching Christmas movies on tv and attending church with us. My mom drinks Kendall Jackson in the kitchen while trying to figure out who these people are that keep sending us Christmas cards. My brother and I compensate for our confusion and uncertainties about our mixed-religion upbringing by fostering a host of our own insecurities and anxieties. This year should prove interesting, as we have a new dog residing with us. Jarred (named by previous owner), the dog who curiously does not like Subway, and has a collection of fleece jackets several times larger than mine. There's no doubt Jarred will be getting Christmas presents. I can only hope he doesn't get more than me, or we know who's getting my bedroom when I try to move back in after college.