A Very Merry Raidy Christmas

This is the first year my brother hasn't been at my parents' house Christmas morning. He moved into a condo a couple months ago, so he chose to sleep in his own bed Christmas Eve instead of on the couch. It's very weird.

My mom is making breakfast, and we're drinking coffee waiting for Danny to get here so we can open presents. Not that he would've been up at this hour (before 9 a.m.) in the previous couple years anyway. As Danny and I have gotten older, the hour we wake up on Christmas morning has gotten later and later. I used to be so excited by the prospect of presents that I would, no joke, saunter downstairs around 3:30 a.m. to check everything out and then restlessly fall back asleep until my parents woke up. Then I'd be up around 6 a.m. I couldn't stand it anymore.

The rule in our house is you can look through your stockings but have to wait for everybody to wake up before opening presents. this can make for late mornings, given my parents' tendency to have a cocktail or two (Or many, like the infamous Christmas Eve of 2003 where Uncle Kevin fell down in the kitchen, giving himself a black eye; Chris's hair was wild and unruly; and my dad climbed into my cousin's bed to spend the night, prompting Danny and I to say he was ruining Christmas. The Crown Royal shots were flowing that night. As insanity ensued upstairs, the of-drinking age kids were downstairs playing "Lord of the Rings" chess.

When you're younger, you're so excited to get STUFF. Any kind of STUFF. This year, I'm more excited to see what everybody thinks of the gifts I bought. My mom picked out her own gift, a heart monitor that counts the number of calories you burn when you work out. I bought my brother some stuff for his new place and "The Hangover," which I hope we watch after. The wild card is my dad, as is the case every year.

He asked for a Green Machine, which is to carpet cleaning as the Dustbuster is to vacuuming. He told me I could find it for $29.99 at the WalMart. My mom said he was stuck in the 1970s, and it would no-doubt be more expensive. So, I'm thinking it'll be around $40 or so. Imagine my surprise when WalMart has it on sale for $79.99. It wasn't the cost that got me, it was the fact that my dad was so off on the price. Then again, he thinks jeans should still cost $10.

I also ordered my dad a flannel shirt from L.L. Bean. Normal gift, right? No. My dad will only wear flannels that are not 100 percent cotton. Try finding this mysterious creation. I'm convinced it doesn't exist. It's like he's JLO requesting only green M&Ms in a jar. He wants a blended fabric because he says they don't shrink. Legend has it my grandma used to be able to find the shirts for him. Every time I'm in the men's department anywhere, you'll find me checking the tags of flannel shirts. So I found a shirt on L.L. Bean.com that claims it will never ever ever shrink. It's still 100 percent cotton so this will be quite the experiment at the Soderlund house.

I'll let you know how it goes.

The day will be spent at my aunt and uncle's house having a Very Merry Raidy Christmas. It's the best damn Christmas dinner you've ever had. The tradition started a long time ago with my cousin Jon, who owns his own restaurant. Jon made us prime rib and the freakin bestest estest twice-baked potatoes you've ever had in your life. (I'm quite hyperbolic in this post, I realize). So after a meal of prime rib, twice-baked potatoes, asparagus and hollandaise sauce, Uncle Ron usually makes a show with some bananas foster in the kitchen. The crowd oooos and aaaas as the alcohol hits the pan and it erupts in flames.

A mean game of White Elephant grab bag is next where, to steal a line from my cousin Christopher, "there will be bloodshed."

Merry Christmas!