Like so many Americans, we traveled a lot for the holidays. Craptastic weather threatened most of the Midwest in the form of a blizzard dubbed by the social media world as “Snowmageddon,” but when it comes to Christmas, my family doesn’t fuck around, and there was no way I was letting the possibility of 24 inches of snow, freezing rain and a little bit of life-threatening sleet ruin my Christmas plans. So I made the boyfriend drive (and by ‘made’ I mean that he drove because he barely lets me behind the wheel. Even when the car is off. Let alone when it going 20 miles per hour down the snow-packed freeway). We traveled between Minneapolis, southern Minnesota, Wisconsin and back to Minnesota over three action packed days.
I can haz freeway?
A brief aside: Since moving back to the Midwest–I almost just typed “Wisconsin.” *Shudder* (Just kidding, guys!)–I’ve had several people comment on the way I announce the freeway. Up until recently I’ve always thought I said, “I’m on the 494,” or, “I’m on *the* 10, heading into downtown.”
No one says “I’m on Freeway.” (I love lamp, anyone?) I would think the same holds true for “I’m on *the* 494.” Why would anyone say “I’m on 494”? Another example: “I’m eating *the* Cheeto.” singular. Unless you want to say “I’m eating Cheetos,” plural. In which case, that would be correct.
As time has continued, however, it has seemed to suggest that I may have developed this habit of inserting ‘the’ before the name of the freeway while living in Los Angeles. But I don’t remember a period of time where I’ve never *not* said ‘the’. Can someone explain this to me? Is this a Midwest thing that I just never noticed growing up? If that’s the case, it reaffirms the fact that I’m still experiencing total culture shock almost a full year later, and what the fuck?
Mecca (if Christmas were a Muslim)
The lovely green package in the lower right-hand corner in a the above photo is a product of my brother’s superb wrapping skills. It’s okay, he’s an “artist.”
Before the holiday, I had worked out a plan to fashion a home made cream cheese dip in the hope it would become my signature holiday food contribution. But then the boyfriend did all of the work, and well, it became “Nate’s Dip that Karlie planned,” and sometimes I just think I have extraordinary magical powers.
When he is older, he will appreciate the fashion decisions made by his mother. HE WILL.
We ate too much and slept too little, with family we see far too infrequently, over a fantastic weekend that flew by far too quickly. We drank the perfect number of Tom and Jerry’s and played Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You” on the jukebox four too many consecutive times. (As it turns out, that’s the perfect number.)
Hopefully everyone else out there had a beautiful holiday season and I wish you all a prosperous, joy-filled 2010. Until January, Internet!
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