Santa came! We didn’t go too crazy this year, but there were a few special things under the tree. The pups got cozy new beds, a toy and a bucket of treats each, and an agility tunnel that we’re going to work on with them. Very spoiled.
After a breakfast of cookies and compulsory viewing of AD/BC (a Christmas morning tradition), we headed over to Mum’s house. This year we were doing something different – I basically hosted Christmas by proxy. I planned the menu, delegated different things to people and organized everything, but we had it at Mum’s and she did the decorating (which worked for us, because our house needs renovations before we can do any sort of hosting here). It worked really well. Everybody was so relaxed and the whole day went off without a single disaster, argument or anything. Oh, except for one thing: when we arrived, Dad wasn’t there, because my Grandma was in emergency. I was pretty upset and we were all very tense until we got an update. Long story short, Grandma is much better, and we’re all so relieved.
Anyway, Dad and I had a special project this year and I seriously have not stopped with the self-congratulation. We decided that plain roast pork wasn’t fancy enough – we made a Martha Stewart porchetta, complete with imported fennel pollen. It was seriously amazing. Crackling all the way around, perfectly cooked and so ‘extra’ in every way. We even went over for Boxing Day porchetta and salsa verde sandwiches tonight, it was that good. Such a triumph, and it absolutely bloody should have been… it was very expensive to make!
Dad got back in time to eat a very late lunch and we opened presents and ate ice cream Christmas pudding. As much as it would be nice to eat a traditional meal, I really prefer eating lighter food at Christmas. It’s summer, first of all, and secondly, it’s just too hard to eat really heavy food when most of us have two Christmases to go to.
Christmas naps were enjoyed by all.
We went to Nathan’s brother’s house for yet more food, then swung back by Mum’s house to pick up the dogs and finally tumbled into bed with the biggest food hangovers ever. I gingerly sipped on a slurpee and moaned about how sick I felt, telling Nathan I had The Fear. If you’re not familiar with the term, look it up. I fully believe it’s applicable to many more situations than just drinking – as in, on Christmas night, I truly did have The Fear that I would die from having consumed so much food (see, it works).