Christmas in America's Creepiest Town, and Other Tales

Bing!

Happy Holidaze!

I've been dusting off all my old Christmas albums this week - I had no idea I had so many, but then again records are so skinny they hardly take up any space at all.  Dozens and dozens of Christmas music, mostly predating the 1980s, acquired from grandparents, thrift stores, antique boutiques, hipster record shops, you name it.  Some of them get repeated use, others are kept mainly due to their campy cover art, but - being the pack rat that I am - I can't bring myself to parting with any of them.

It's been awhile since I've been through one of these. . .

And yes, Kris hates that.

Speaking of my roommate, she decided that our family needed a punch in the face with a fistful of Christmas this weekend.  Again, blame it on the 80-degree weather, palm trees, and absence of snow and family, but it doesn't really feel like Christmas around these parts.  And that's despite my devotion to Christmas vinyl and Griswold interior decorating.

She was pretty excited to show us where she gets her food at school.  This seemed odd to me, seeing how we opt to pack her a healthy lunch every day, and she's only gotten a school lunch twice this year.  Kids are weird like that.

So, kids in tow, we drove over to Alayna's school, where they were having a 'Breakfast with Santa' shin-dig.  Basically what this entails is a cafeteria breakfast, followed by a photo-op with the one and only Santa Claus (though I have a sneaking suspicion it might just be some overweight guy with a fake beard.)  Kris and I weren't eating, and since kids under 3 were free, we got the whole morning's activities for a measly $5.

Not too shabby.


After the kids' breakfast, we took a number (yes, just like at the DMV - I was weirded out, too) and hung around waiting for our turn to see Santa.  Being the clever administrators that they are, the school decided to host a book fair in the same room as the waiting line.

So - obviously - we bought a couple books.  But, in my defense, everything was Buy-One/Get-One-Free.  Shut up.

As with the lunch line, Alayna was really excited to show off her school's library. . .

Parents are suckers.

Over-stimulated.

Not the best place to sit and read a book, but hell. . . at least they weren't running around like savages anymore.

Browsing through One Direction and Justin Beiber posters. . .

In the queue area to see Santa. . .

Anyway, the school took our family's picture sitting next to Santa, but they haven't printed it out for us yet, and I don't have a digital copy.  Abby was terrified, Alayna was thrilled, and Santa was bored.  And seeing how I don't have a picture for you to gaze at, here's a picture of what may be the creepiest Santa every photographed:

Watson Rutherford Hough I

In the afternoon, once the kids had been fed, I took them out to Target so that they could buy Kris some Christmas presents.  We had talked about it and decided that it was important for them to get into the habit of buying gifts for others during the holidays, and so I gave each of them $5 and told them to pick something out for Mommy.

Now, since Kris may read this prior to Christmas morning, I'm going to forego telling you all what they picked out (don't worry, it's ridiculous) and wait to post their gifts later, once she's opened them all.

(And cried.)

Wrapping up Mommy's Christmas presents. . .

America's Creepiest Town

Later that evening, the family - once again - loaded up into our Tactical Family Transport Vehicle and cruised over to Celebration, FL. - or, as I like to call it, America's Creepiest Town.  Celebration is like that town from Edward Scissorhands.  Houses look like courthouses, there's not a piece of trash or a hobo to be seen for miles and miles, and not one blade of grass looks out of turn.

An out-door skating rink. . . in Florida.  

Everyone that works there pulls in six figures, if not millions - it's where all the big-wig Disney execs live - and every year they have this huge Christmas extravaganza in their town, and invite all the plebeians from miles around to clog up their pristine, cobblestone streets.

Personally, if I were one of Celebration's locals, I'd take a vacation during this time of year, lest the stench of middle-class gawkers offend my nostrils.  But, hey - then again, I'm a dick.

Check it out:

Remember that Pumpkin Patch in Celebration we used to hit up?  The same church that sponsored that was selling Christmas Trees. . . which, as you can probably imagine, were ridiculously over-priced.

The kids have never seen a real-life Christmas tree, and were pretty amazed with them.  This is really, really sad.

. . . and they SMELL?!

Celebration's big Christmas-thing draw is their artificial snowfall.  The snow, in actuality, is bubbles that disintegrate when they come into contact with skin, leaving behind no sticky residue (thank God.) 

The Cannonball plays with some 'snow.'

After letting the kids play in the 'snow' for awhile, we decided to check out what else Celebration had to offer. . .

They had train rides. . . but for $5 per person for a 15-minute ride I wasn't feeling it.  Maybe next year.

My kids, bothering some lady who was just trying to enjoy a drink in peace.  

Oddly enough, the carriage rides were cheaper than the train rides.  Not sure how.

After checking out some of the other attractions around downtown Celebration, we found ourselves back at the 'snow' area, where there was only a few minutes left until the next 'snowfall.'

SNOW!   BUBBLES!!

This picture truly sums up the evening. . . and our lives in general.

If these kids ever saw real snow in person, they'd flip their shit.

Fixing Daddy's face.

The girls were getting cranky, as it was way past (passed?) their bedtime, so we decided to head back to our car.  On the way, we stopped so they could check out some local ballet group perform in the street (both our girls have been obsessed with ballerinas lately. . . must be a chick thing.)

Dealing with whiny children on the walk back to the Tactical Family Transport Vehicle.

This is all our dog does.

When we got back to the house, we put the girls in bed (both had passed out on the drive home) and let Watson out. . . who, as always, was overly-excited to be freed from his crate.  Hanging out in my Study, Kris and I threw in A Christmas Story (not my favorite, but I'm working my way through the standards before getting to the really good ones closer to Christmas Eve), mixed up some holiday cocktails, and continue to wrap presents while our lazy-ass dog took yet another nap on the floor.

Stay tuned, people. . .

- Brian