December 25 and 26.
Ya’ll should know before you read this and get all sad for me that I pretty much have a hate/hate relationship with Christmas. Well, most holidays, in fact, but Christmas especially. It doesn’t seem to matter how low I set the bar, every year is disappointing in some aspect or another. Usually, I cry. Plus, death. For some reason, my family loves to check out during the holiday season. These days, I have come to accept that this is the way I am and I get through it by mostly ignoring it. So, when I tell you that I spent the day reading Cosmo and cutting out the tidbits I really enjoyed and pasting them in my book, and ate a Klondike bar and drank a Pepsi, understand that I did on Christmas *exactly what I wanted to do* and I was happy.
On the 26th, we had ribeyes again. I promise this is not a recycled picture. There were also baked potatoes and beer. And a lot of laughing. Also a Wal-Mart run before dinner.