Yesterday, I licked an ice cube.

Or two nights ago, rather.  It’s a silly thing to do, ice cube licking, and I don’t really have an explanation except that it looked cold, smooth and inviting.  And harmless.  It looked harmless.  So I licked it, got stuck to it, and spent several minutes of illegible griping at being the subject of my brother’s delighted laughs as he took photos, before I was freed.  Kids: if you lick ice, you’ll get stuck to it and it will be uncomfortable and possibly painful.

Santa was lazy this year.  He stuffed our stockings early to save time, and put up decoys during the interim week.  A cry of “That isn’t my stocking!” could be heard at hourly intervals over Thursday, until everyone was updated on the status of things.  The decoy stockings were red, thin, and hand-decorated from our year in New Jersey (2000) when we forgot to send our Christmas box in our house shipment.  Added up, I’ve probably spent a couple years of my life in new countries waiting for our shipments to arrive.  It’s bittersweet when you finally get the piles of boxes.  Sweet because it’s like Christmas when they arrive.  Bitter because you realize how unnecessarily cluttered your life is.  (If you can live without something for four months, do you really need it?).  It’s also humorous – packers have literally packed our trash and shipped it to our new location.

While I’m on the thingsivelivedwithoutbecauseofmydad’sjob topic, I’d like to bring up a matter of pork.  The majority of my childhood was spent in pork-free/pork-difficult countries.  I’m pretty sure that the porklessness of these countries was the reason they were listed as hardship posts, as they were beautiful, friendly and peaceful locations.  Because they were hardship posts, we were flown back every summer: which meant our summers turned into giant pig-fests.  On the way to the States, we would spend a few weeks in Europe, carless, phoneless, and (when my parents had it their way) tvless.  But not porkless.  No.  We would walk an hour through small towns and fields to the grocery store, and on our return we would be laden with bags of bacon, ham, and sausages.


Both of my grandfathers served in WWII.  My mom’s father was a POW in France when he was 18.  He tells us that after that experience (of constant near starvation), he always keeps a bit of food on him.  This is how my father still reveres pork; even though it’s accessible, it shouldn’t be taken for granted.  So: yesterday we ate a giant turkey dinner, and tonight we ate a massive honey ham dinner.  1/3 of our household is on the freaky diet I detailed in my last post which means we will have leftovers for weeks to come.

Merry Christmas!  The following is a video of how the Christmas story would have looked in 2010.  Get me every time.


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