My sister will straight up murder me for posting this picture, because she had dyed her blond hair brown, and is somewhat skinnier now that she’s a marathon trainee. But it’s the only copy I had of our annual Christmas Pajamas Picture, which I finally–finally–put a stop to this year, after informing my mom that I had pajamas coming out of my ears. Also, that I am 29. (My 31 year old sister was very upset by this year’s dearth of Christmas pjs, but I think she’s currently soothing her pain with the new bracelet she scored.)
Regardless, Christmas is over. My gifts were awesome (thanks to my very generous parents, who continue to spoil me deep into my twenties), and a good time was had by all. Unfortunately, it went undocumented by the fam. The lack of pjs this year wasn’t the only reason that pic up there is old. Apparently, no one in my family brought a camera to Christmas.
It’s just as well, no one wanted to immortalize the look on my parents’ face as they realized that Brett Favre was in charge of the Patriots’ postseason fat (suck on it, Jets). But I did have my phone and its rather blurry camera, so I managed to snag a few shots.
We always ring in Christmas Eve with lobster. I’m not sure how this got started, but I find it’s best not to question these things. I was born in Maine–there might actually be shellfish and drawn butter running through my veins. (Ew.)
My brother-in-law is from Peru, but has grown rather accustomed to the New England Christmas. I kind of wish he’d get his ears done though, going out in public is embarrassing.
Speaking of Peru, this year we enjoyed one of his traditions–Panettone. It’s an Italian sweetbread that is a Christmas tradition in Peru. We decided it tastes like hot cross buns, but with candied fruit stuck in. Yum!
White Russians and cribbage are other holiday necessities. Here, my kitteh Butters tries to be stealth as she plans to steal a sip while my sister is distracted by my dad’s commanding lead.
Next we have the holiday morinng spread, complete with champers for mimosas and the pulp stuck to my dad’s new juicer.
And finally, the crown roast. I love crown roast, mainly for the little gold chef’s hats that they stick on the bones. Mmmm, bones.
Next stop? New Year’s eve!