My laundry list of holiday gripes is long and storied. Santa hats, lawn inflatables, poinsettas, theme sweaters, mall parking lots, antlers and shiz on the front of gas-sucking SUVs, year-round Christmas shoppes, year-round Christmas decorations, Wal-Mart…
However, I love Christmas. I love any opportunity to give and get a gift. I love bubble lights on a fresh tree and the looks of sugared-up delight on the faces of kids in pajamas with feet. I love Midnight Mass. I love the spirit of love and generosity that wells up within me when I’m surrounded by my closest friends during magical December dinner parties. I love the free-flowing booze that comes with any holiday party worth its salted rims. I love hot roast beast and cold rum cake.
So suck on it, you bah humbuggin’ Scrooges. You get back what you put out, so if you’re navigating the holidays with a stone-cold heart, you’re going to get a lump of coal in your stocking and a lump on your face from the Ghost of Christmas Present, which is what I’m calling my mittened right fist.
God bless us all, everyone.