hiding from the kitchen goddess...

it's funny how we slip into old habits when we come home. certain things can always be counted on -
~ my brother will always act like a dinosaur and attack me until i laugh at him
~ my mom will always want the perfect christmas and bake/clean/stress out until she gets sick
~ rob and i will always go shopping and sing obnoxious, loud songs in the parking lot
~ my dad will always be swamped with work until the last minute, when he comes home and crashes with the family
~ the dog will always pee at the bottom of the stairs leading into the basement
~ dad will always play music in the office next to my bedroom when i'm trying to sleep (trust me, after 26 years, it's become very soothing)
~ the crazy-ass neighbors will always try to out-do each other (the family across the street gave the garbagemen a present this year)
~ and home will always be the place where i find the most chaotic comfort imaginable

this year's christmas dinner includes our "by-choice" family - the family friends that have been around for years, put up with chicken-poisoning vomit (mine) and broken ankles (dad's) in the same day, stood by us through not-by-choice family drama, and have helped to make this place a home with visits from red fire engines, thematic movie nights, and game after game of hand & foot, trivial pursuit, and cranium. THIS is what family is all about.