my family Christmases

…usually wind up with my family jammed in a hotel room somewhere in the middle of America, living off late-night diner food and chips. I am actually very, very familiar with attempting to go into national parks or monuments on Christmas Day, and being informed by park rangers that we can’t go in because “no one is working, because it’s Christmas.” (I love how that has to be explained to us.) 

This time last year, we were passing through New Mexico. I remember Christmas in the desert, eating at a McDonalds with alien posters, bundling up tight because even in the desert, it was cold. I think I saw snow. 

I’m not missing out, by any means. We do the whole family-Christmas thing at home, where everyone gathers together, stuffs themselves, and opens presents. I love those nights too. But I also have to say, I’ve come to love being on the road, eating stale free bagels and poorly heated instant noodles, stuck in a too-small hotel room with the people I love best in the world. 

This year, I’m writing this from the relative comfort of a Vegas hotel room. We’ve got a nice view from our room, peppermint hot chocolate, and my brother’s surfing for It’s a Wonderful Life on TV.  

Merry Christmas, all.