Every year, we watch this movie way too many times. And every year, I take something different out of it. Last year was "Merry Christmas. Shitter was full." You really should make sure to check your shitters at this, the Yule loggiest season of all. This year for some reason, it's the part at Clark's office when he tells the line of suits merry Christmas. It's just the funniest thing for some reason.
So our weather just changed over here, and if I pretend the palm trees don't exist, it's almost like being home. And that's another thing. You really can't go home, but by golly, once you've been gone for a while it seems like the happiest place on earth. Sorry Disney, my mama's house is cheaper and the food's better. It's not like its any less crazy than the last time you were there or that somehow your family morphed into the Cleavers. I mean let's face it, we're all way more Griswold than all that. But I just keep feeling the weather and thinking off all these horribly romanticized memories of Christmases passed.
I think of the time I got a puppy in my stocking, and all the other stuff like that. But it's not just the big things or even the things. It's the feeling of the heater running in an old farm house, curling up in flannel Jammie's, the Christmas Story marathon, and just being together. It's not like we liked each other more, it was just too damn cold to be anywhere else. But it was Christmas, dammit! And now I have to try to make these faux memories with my kids. It's all about the experience, Russ.
