On Saturday I left the glorious city of Corpus Christi and headed to the great white north of Central Texas. I was thrilled to find that I had left the balmy 80 degrees weather behind for some brisk and chilly 75. Can’t have it all I suppose.
We spent all day Sunday cooking in preparation for our Christmas Eve feast. My sister and I managed to churn out over 50 mini-pies. It was quite the industrious day.
We also take our goals of creating hairless dishes seriously. My sister also requested that I note that this is not the only shirt she owns despite the fact that she is wearing it in 99% of my pictures, it is just wonderfully soft.
By some miracle, only one mini-pie was lost.
Thankfully, we had some on-site supervisors who were more than happy to swoop in and clean the floor after we had picked up the pie.
After cooking on Sunday and Monday morning, we finally sat down to our feast. I have no pictures of said feast because I was too busy shoving it down my throat. In news that will come as absolutely now surprise at all, I ate too much and now I feel like this fatass:
Eighteen pounds of pure fluffy hate. Mamaw came to visit with her new sequined hat. So very festive, as usual.
After lunch, we headed to my other grandmother’s to open gifts. Mamaw doesn’t do gifts because that would require actually have to spend one’s money. Anyway, my cousin gave me one of the best gifts ever:
I’m going to have to keep a close eye on her, she kept trying to jack it. After Christmas, we stumbled home and crashed on the couch to watch this for the 100th year in a row:
That movie always makes me feel like my life is so dull and unmusical. It’s quite depressing actually. My grandpa never danced me behind a giant Christmas tree and into my true love’s arms. How very disappointing.