It's Christmas Eve and the traditional Brave Astronaut family dinner growing up was homemade hamburgers and my father's homemade potato chips. (Do you really need a recipe?) The burgers were shaped from ground beef into thick patties and fried in a skillet. The potato chips, which we could only get my father to make this one night a year, were sliced thin (by hand) and put into the deep fryer. Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, we owned a deep fryer. But God, was it good. Mrs. BA has banned us from getting one. We would toss everything in, because, "hey, wouldn't that taste good deep fried?"
After dinner was over (you'll note, I did not mention a vegetable, I can't seem to recall one), I, as the youngest of the family would be allowed to open one gift. Then my father would read the Christmas story in the Bible, or maybe "Twas the Night Before Christmas" before being sent off to bed. I would leave out some cookies and milk for Santa and head upstairs. Because in our house, the tree, which was sitting on the back patio in a bucket of water, would not come in the house until Christmas Eve. Then it would be decorated by Santa when he came to drop off the presents. Except for the presents that were on the big green table in the basement, which may or may not have been unwrapped and re-wrapped by a small boy.
I was much older when I finally crept down the stairs one night to see my siblings and my parents decorating the tree. I was disappointed, but I still believe in Santa Claus. He's out there right now doing his job. So I better get to bed. Merry Christmas!
1 comment:
We had our own Christmas Eve miracle. The Comcast guy came, only an hour late, and installed our DVR device. It even works. Woo hoo!
P in DC makes wonderful homemade french fries (twice cooked). Next year, you can borrow the deep fryer. (It was a wedding gift.)
Post a Comment