Porphyrogene!

Kyle and I wandered into Le Big-Home-Improvement-Store the other day and after finding everything on our list and then some, I had to body slam and karate chop my man into making steady progress toward the check out registers rather than veering towards wreaths, enormous blow up snowmen, christmas tree door mats, and twinkle lights.  I don’t know why twinkle lights are Kyle’s kryptonite - I, typically, am the one attracted to shiny or glowy objects [as evidenced by the two instructions I was ordered to follow when looking for and purchasing a bridesmaid dress for an upcoming wedding that I’m honored to be a part of: 1. Get it in David’s Bridal Cornflower Blue, 2. Do not buy anything that will make you resemble a disco ball.     I’m fairly certain I was the only one given the second instruction.] 

We already own about 30 strings of white lights that we purchased cheap and in bulk to decorate the reception hall for our wedding — Translate this to mean we could pull a Chevy Chase.  I was not expecting to require the strength to pull a grown man away from said twinkle lights aka kryptonite of the wallet…  I should start working out or something.   After all, I thought the Christmas displays didn’t start until Early November… and here we are, weeks early, being bombarded with reindeer and tinsel.

Not that I’m enormously complaining… even though it may sound like it, it’s all just an illusion.  I’m a big fan of Christmas - both types.  I love the celebration of the Saviour and I love the mistletoe draped in red ribbon.  As I previously mentioned, I am a craftsy type - so last year I made our stockings, a Stable for our manger scene, and more than half of our tree decorations.  I’m excited for the winter season to begin.  But the true purpose of this post is to share with you a flashback I had of Kyle and my first married Christmas Eve/Day together. 

We decided, the week before Christmas, to drive to visit family.  First we drove 4 hours to visit HIS family and spent a day and a night with them.  It is pure joy and sunshine to visit with my in-laws.  I call them in-laws only to avoid confusion as I write this because the truth is that they feel like family, no ‘in-laws’ about it.  Then we drove 4 more hours to visit MY family, meet my brother’s girlfriend, go into NYC, celebrate the holiday, and then we packed up and drove home to the ‘burgh on Christmas Eve’s Day. 

We had lofty plans.  You see, for months we’d been eating healthily and avoiding certain favorite, particularly delicious foods such as donuts or cinnamon buns, or fondue.   Prior to our road trip we made a list of all the foods we would buy, splurge on, to have and share on Christmas day.  Kyle was going to make me Souffle! and Quiche!  I was going to open a role of Pillsbury cinnamon buns and pop ‘em in the oven! It was going to be spectacular!

Did you know all grocery stores (even the ‘24 hour’ ones) close early on Christmas Eve?

We got back to Pittsburgh at around 7:00 p.m. I think, maybe a little later.  We stopped at 3 different Giant Eagles, we stopped at a 24 hour Walmart, we stopped at a Shop and Save.  After driving 6+ hours to get home to Pittsburgh the last thing we wanted to be doing was to be driving around to 80 different grocery stores trying to find 4 different kinds of cheese, eggs, and maybe some milk.  Genius that I am, we decided to save our grocery shopping (ON PURPOSE) for Christmas Eve so that none of our food spoiled while we were away. 

There were several different phases of our mood:  Relief to be back in Pittsburgh, Annoyance that the first store was closed, disbelief that the second store was closed, Freaking-out when the third store was closed, Anger and general snappish-ness as we drove half an hour to get to a CLOSED 24-hour Walmart, unending giggling and silliness as we pulled up to an open gas station and combed all food products for ANYTHING Christmas eve/day worthy.  We came out with some milk, a container of eggs, a block of Velveeta cheese, a pre-made calzone and some donut holes.  Have I mentioned that, at this point, we still had not eaten dinner and it was about 10:00 p.m.?

We went home, defeated and punch drunk.  We ate our food, ignored our stomach aches from the who-knows-how-old calzone, and went to bed — happy.

In the morning, my dream of a husband made me a velveeta cheese souffle (for real) and cinnamon buns from scratch (without oil, or sugar … or flour I think).  As a culinary tradition, I wouldn’t recommend either one.   Then again, the overwhelming love I felt for him as we, giggling, dug into the oddly fluffy-topped, brick bottomed souffle was delicious.

I’m not sure we could have had a better first Christmas.