December 26th's is St. Stephen's Day. so Good King Wenceslaus is actually a Boxing Day carol. Also, he wasn't a king, but was a Duke. And was killed by his pagan brother at the behest of the majority Christian populas due to his poor leadership skills. But then sainted for political reasons surrounding the Christianizing of Bohemia. So there you go. Neither good nor a King. His skeleton is on display in the Cathedral in Prague. The name will come to me. Or not.
For several years, when I was a child, my grandma would host Christmas dinner and then my parents would host a second large dinner with all the same people on St. Stephen's day. Since they all came in from out of town, they got two dinners. I don't remember this well, but it must have gone on until I was in highschool, because I remember my cousin Tom sitting on the floor trying to play my sousaphone. There's a picture of this someplace.
Brother Bob hosts Christmas dinner now. The guest list has been declining. Seymore died. Then Bro. Bob was trying to get ahold of Bunny, Seymore's widow and couldn't reach her. I did an obituary search on Lexis Nexus, but I don't know what I'm doing. Bunny died in August, but we didn't know. He got back a letter informing him a couple of days ago. There were gifts addressed to Bunny sitting under the tree. I never liked Bunny and now she's dead. I feel kind of guilty about this.
I have mixed feelings about the holidays. They make me miss all those dead folks. It seems like the dead outnumber the living. Another Christmas without my mom. Another Christmas without my ex. Without Tom. without Catherine. without . . ..
My dad's girlfriend seems to be a good match for him. She can a word in edgewise, which is good. I wonder if they're sleeping together. I don't really want to have that conversation with either of them though, so I'm happy being in the dark. My dad and my uncle go back and forth about how transitors were invented and poor computer design and how to fake out the patent office and who discovered what and how naysayers held back great discoveries for years. Every time they're together. sometimes they talk about motorcycles, which is good because my brother can tell the story about how his bike no longer meets emission standards but goes faster. All these stories everytime. they could have numbers which could be read off in leiu of telling them. But sometimes new things emerge, like how my dad was explainign that if Sweden ever got an army, they would have to drop that socialism, public healthcare things because states that offer healthcare and have armies become totalitarian. He's always coming up with reasons why socialized medicine is about to collapse in Sweden. I wish I could say I was joking. my dad and I spend a lot of time talking about Sweden. They're about to bankrupt. They're about to become a police state. They're about to fall into the ocean. They don't actually, exist, I don't know. My family is on crack. And that is my family. My dad, my brother and my uncle. The family friends / hangers on have dwindled down to Brother Bob and now my Dad's girlfriend. I love brother Bob. He's great. But this family is too insane. I fear he will flee. And the last couple of years, I've been brining Ellen.
I kind of knew that my mom was glue holding everyone togteher. I didn't realize she was the most sane and socially equipped. It's amazing I can have conversations with people, given my background. The fact that I can interact with anyone at all is amazing.
The cathedral in Prague is called St. Vitus. It has St. Vitus' shoulder there on display, I think. Catholics are a weird bunch.
Ratty indicates that it's not nice to say what one got for Christamas, so I won't except to note that I am exceptionally fond of the camera cozy that Nicole knitted me.