A Christmas Story (told through pictures)

Have you ever read the book "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever"?

It is a classic in my family and the cover of the copy we own reads "The WORST Christmas Pageant Ever" with the word "WORST" crossed out and the word "best" written over the top of it, to insinuate some sort of basic children's foreshadowing.

Initially you might feel that this post is going to be "The Most Boring Blog Post Ever," as most personal christmas stories are. Everyone likes to talk about their Christmas traditions and adventures, but nobody really cares to hear about anyone else's.

However, I did not have a normal Christmas this year.

So, please open those little minds of yours and mentally cross out the word "boring" so we can both agree that this will be "The Best Blog Post Ever."

This will also not be like that story that turned into the hit country Christmas song "The Christmas Shoes."

That song plays with my emotions more than my freshman boyfriend.

How did they fit that much emotional torment into one song?

Not only is the kid poor, selfless, and has a dying mother, but all this is happening on CHRISTMAS.

Throw in the fact that it is a country song and I'm in mourning until January every time I hear it. (Mostly because I listened to an entire country song.)

So, I've made you a few promises.

1. This post will not be lame and boring.

2. This post will not make you cry like a little baby.

3. If you nominate me as 8th grade president we will have soda pop in all the water fountains.

Thank You. Let us begin.

The night started out like any Christmas should. Getting dressed up. Mom taking pictures by the stockings. Feeling all christmas-spiritey.

It wasn't long before we were watching Jordan break the Christmas pinata for the second year in a row. Truth be told I whacked the heck out of that thing and it was just hanging by a thread by the time Jordan got to it. Also, this is my blog so I can say whatever I want.
Next it was off to Grandma Wade's house. Every year we have the nativity to beat all in-home nativities. In an organized fashion we are all dressed in full costume and given lines to read, songs to sing, and sticks to hit each other with when my grandma isn't looking.

Erin, Lauren and I are the "readers" every year. However, this being the first year that two of the three readers have husbands and life-plans (Hint: I was not one of them), Lauren was off in Texas with her new in-laws.

Because we were desperate we asked Erin's husband Broc to fill in and I must say, he looked quite nice in the red graduation robes traditional to the role of "Nativity Reader" (according to my grandmother.)

Other characters included a chorus of Angels...(I got booted out of this position years ago)


...Shepherds (When Roosevelt said "Speak softly and carry a big stick" he did not factor in the lung capacity of nine little boys with shepherds crooks)...



...and three wise men (AT&T commercial anyone? More bars in more places)...


After all the family festivities it was on to the friend bonfire that we had planned for last week until we got rained out.
You know you're from a small town when a bonfire on Christmas night in your sheepskin collared jacket seems like a fitting way to end your holiday.
Here is the twenty-foot tree we dragged out into the middle of the desert for kindling.

At some point in the night Erin and I got really nervous about the large, gasoline-soaked tree we were lighting up with nobody around for miles to hear us scream, but we didn't let it show.

The boys stacked crates around the tree, duct taped a few bottles of gasoline to the branches, lit a match, and....

...let 'er burn.

There was a point when we realized one of the bottles of gasoline hadn't burst yet.

You'd think this would be a problem.

But it wouldn't be.

Only because you have a friend who can just shoot it with his concealed ankle pistol.

Since there's not any actual crime in St. George, he keeps it around for occasions like this.

Thanks Mitch.

Devin also got out his gun, just to remind us how ultra-conservative we all are.

In the end it was The Best Christmas Ever.

If you wanted you could cross out "best" and write "most flaming"

but I guess that means something a lot different than what I'm trying to say.

I hope everyone else had a Christmas as adventure and family-filled as mine was.

Katie