storybook.

Every Christmas, I want the storybook experience. And the wonderful thing about still being the 'kid' generation in my family is, I get it. I get the lights and the carolling and the solid month of singing, AND I get paid to do it, too. This Christmas Eve, I got a delightful dinner at my mom's cozy East Van condo, surrounded by some of my favourite people. Then I got to lie around, grazing and digesting, on Christmas Day with my mom and her delightful roommate. Then I took the midnight bus to the Okanagan, and now I am at my dad's, where there are more starry-eyed delights, like skating on the local pond (skating! outside! the quintessential Canadian Experience!), a slightly drunken walk through fast-falling snow in the dark, and more rich food than I should have touched (I may go home with a few extra pounds, but by god I have eaten well this week). The only thing that would have made things better up here would have been if my brother and his wife could have come too, so that we could have been lazy 30-something kids up here together. I have transcended the whole Present thing (I got very little in the way of material things this season); the delight is almost all wrapped up in the gift of family and friends, lights and music and snow. I thank the gods, as I do every few months, that I truly LIKE my family, as well as love them.

But...
Here's my secret confession: If my Christmas is like a storybook (and it has been, truly), then I wish that my New Year's Eve could be like a movie. If Christmas is a week or so of childish self-indulgence wrapped in delight, then I wish that New Year's Eve could be a night of sleek, shiny pleasure. Cool Venue. Dancing. Live music. Maybe a chase scene, followed by The Best Kiss In The World at midnight. Am I the only person who feels like this, or do we all secretly long for it?

(Spoiler Alert: I don't think this is going to happen this year. Not the dancing, not the chase scene. Certainly not the Kiss. I will have a perfectly nice time at my friend G's New Year's party, and I will be grateful and happy to attend. And I will refuse, dammit, to lower my expectations.)