Monday, December 08, 2008

have yourself a merry little christmas

I've been feeling a little sentimentalicious recently. In light of this, here's a little tally of my favourite and not-so-favourite Christmases through the years.

Worst Christmases Ever
My first experience with illegal activity. I was in grade four, miserably failing the chapter on Roman numerals, and plagiarizing my parents' signatures to fool Miss Hamilton into believing they had checked my homework. Then the Parental Unit found out. Not only did I learn the word "plagiarize" that year but I experienced the fear in believing that this exempted me from receiving Christmas presents...thankfully, my assumption was unfounded. Also, I later won a "Most Improved in Mathematics" certificate after my parents kicked my ass bum.

This year scored both worst and best in an unparalleled, pubescent, angst-ridden Christmas. My worst memory comes from performing in the Pep Squad (it's what you think) at Malvern C.I. to "Sleigh Ride" by TLC in outfits straight from that scene in "Mean Girls". *hangs head*

This was my first and only Christmas spent away from home. Which would be bad enough, except that it was spent in Korea - a country fond of mixing Santa, Hello Kitty, Jesus, and Chinese New Year into one very confusing holiday season. I went to church on Christmas eve with friends and we sang Christmas carols together. While Jack Snot nipped at my nose.

Best Christmases Ever
Any Christmas involving my aunt Dodie seriously rocked. She owned a miniature town including miniature EVERYTHING that you would find in a town. Ice rink, chapel, school house, carolers, and nativity with oversized baby Jesus (he was from a different set than the carolers...kind of like a Hulk Jesus in comparison). Also, she used to take me to the Bay on Queen to see the Christmas windows. Also, she attended St. Paul's cathedral on Bloor which still has the most beautiful Christmas eve service I've ever experienced. Also, she had Christmas crackers and I liked the paper crowns. Also, she used to wear a brass brooch that was a jingle bell. Also, she won at Christmas.

I was four years old and wore two Christmas stockings on my feet, which came up to my hips. I can vividly remember taking to stockings, going into the hallway, pulling them on, and thinking, "This is funny. They're going to love this." It was the first time I can remember doing something conscious of my audience. They loved it, by the way. And took photos.

Little known piece of blackmail fact: my brothers and I used to dress up as Santa's elves to help divvy up the presents on Christmas morning. Grandad = Santa. Sarah, Simeon, and Seth = "Strawberry", "Blueberry" and "Plumb", respectively. The details of how committed we were to these characters isn't necessary, nor is it flattering, but I will say that in 1996 I tried to be Sarah for Christmas morning and there was an insurrection. Blueberry and Plumb left me threatening notes, gave me withering looks, and confettied my bedroom with hundreds of hand-decorated strawberries in an attempt to bring me out of retirement. They won.

There was an brilliantly organized (due to the social coordinator) yet poorly attended (due to the snow) Christmas banquet for the Erindale Varsity Christian Fellowship that does not warrant going into, but driving home in Nik's car with Dan, Thea, Joey and Lina to "Song For a Winter's Night" was a mini Christmas miracle. I think it was the last time all of us were together for Christmas.


After finally (and begrudgingly) repaying my parents for outstanding university tuition, handing over what little I had saved for my first apartment in favour of becoming debt-free, I trudged to meet the landlord to let him know I couldn't afford the first and last month's rent and he'd have to give the apartment to someone else. When I met him, he handed me a card with my name on it. It was from my parents, who had visited him first, and paid for first and last month's rent on my behalf.


Being engaged at Christmas was the equivalent of drinking wine in a vat full of kittens. Or, if you don't like wine or kittens (as much as I do), picture two of the most wonderful things in the world and combine them. Andrew and I were double- and triple-booked with events to attend and suffering from epic head/chest colds but none of it mattered. We amused ourselves with emails like this:


If being engaged and celebrating Christmas at the same time was epic, I can only imagine how being married at Christmas will register on the scale of epic-ness. Highlights so far have included picking out a tree at IKEA, decorating said tree, and, of course, prepping, posing, and snapping the above holiday portrait (which has, at this moment, 49 comments on Facebook). Now that Andrew has shaved his moustache (must be pronouced: "moo-staaahh-sh" with dirty, French accent), let the married holiday fun begin!


Andrew G said...

ho ho ho (or, in French, "hon, hon, hon")

Thea said...

That picture is awesome. Nikolas and I were joking before that we were going to do the exact same thing, but you beat us to it. Though, I would not have been able to stand a scurvy 'stache on Nik long enough to take a photo of it.
The bible reading was also a nice touch.

Merry Christmas to you Gazaneos.

beth said...

Merry Christmas, Sarah! You are right- the first married one is freakin' awesome. Enjoy :)

You two would look AMAZING on a Koodo advert as your 80s selves...heeheehee.

Love The Hardys XXXXXXXXX