Our Christmas really happened the day after. My family arrived late on Christmas day so we spent the actual day of cleaning, organizing and prepping for our Christmas feast. Sly had been planning, shopping, and preparing for weeks, ever since we decided to have a Texas-style dinner with homemade smoked brisket and homemade sausages.
Sly made blueberry and apple pies, smoked the brisket and sausage, made homemade bbq sauce and a huge crock-pot vat of mulled cider. My sister and her bf brought over loaves of bread, slaw, pickles, and jalapeno corn mac n cheese — all homemade. My contribution to this dinner was very minimal (as usual): I helped stuff the sausages the weekend before and I picked out a 15 yr old bottle of Texas wine from our stash. My mom brought a bag full of Santa hats, collected from many Christmases, some old stockings, and a string of blinking snowflake lights. While she decorated, we stole pieces of sliced brisket from the cutting board and stared at our own little bakeshop of pies and bread.
We ate a ton. We couldn’t move. And yet we kept eating. Finally we took a long break to open presents, and then when all the gifts were open we polished off an entire pie.
It’s the first time we have hosted Christmas in our house. The first of what I hope to be many many more.