There really IS no place like home for the holidays

Hey all and happy holidays! Before we get down to it, I'd like to bring your attention to a new "Friend of the Show." As we have a lot of female readers here on Thinking Hard (some single, some not), I thought it poignant to add the Bad First Dates Blog. I know absolutely NOTHING about the chick who writes this blog, other than she's in her 20s, just started blogging about her first dates...and apparently has sucktacular luck finding a good man. Show her a little support and read about these bad first dates.

So, if you're a longtime viewer of Thinking Hard, you probably noticed that we haven't posted much in the last week and a half. That meant being stuck with Producers Bitchin' About Snow and Jizzin' In Your Pants (those of you who commented on THAT one are alllll kinds of wrong...and perfect viewers of Thinking Hard). I spent the last 10 days in the frozen tundra of Chicago, IL. A far cry from the 60-degree temperatures in Charlotte, North Cackalacky.

I did the holiday thing early with my family because some of them are traveling to Northern Ireland for the holidays. And I find this year's experience similar to the Rectangular Box. You know the one I'm talking about. You didn't ask for clothes...you asked for a new DVD or video game or toy or inflatable doll...what? Tell me that wasn't on YOUR list during puberty! Anyway, you know as soon as you see it that it's clothes. You could be lucky or unlucky, depending who gave you the box. Close family members (siblings, parents) probably wrapped something in there you will actually WEAR. More distant family members (third cousins, creepy Uncle Larry who always wants you to "Come sit on my lap while I tell you a nice LONG story...") will likely offer you a sweater because, hey, who doesn't wear sweaters? We all get cold.

So, this Christmas holiday was a little like the Box for me. It started off a little busy, which is normal for the holidays. My parents flew me in to O'Hare, picked me up promptly and took me out to lunch. Then I had T-minus 24 hours and counting to pick up last-minute presents, wrap them and load up the car for a 5-hour car ride to Des Moines, Iowa.

I spent time visiting grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, people who I looked at suspiciously while trying to figure out who they were, people who looked at me suspiciously while trying to figure out who I was...you know, like a family reunion. Or a wedding (and man, that's a BAD time to NOT know who you're related to).

A few days later, we had gone through two Christmas dinners, 9 relatives, 5 VERY energetic dogs, dozens of packages...and a fuckload of snow that would only continue to laugh in my southern-weather-loving-underwear. Travel Tip: the midwest gets cold and snowy and icy in the winter. Pack accordingly...do NOT, under any circumstances, pack the following: sandals, short-sleeve shirts, 3/4-sleeve shirts, shorts, short-pants, sunscreen, a beach ball, and hope that you'll see a warm day (because you WON'T).

Last day in Des Moines, we packed ALL the presents into the Ford Edge (great for winter driving...trust me), then packed me, my parents, my sister's dog and my grandmother in for what looked to be a 5-hour roadtrip back to Chicago. Then the snow hit.

Yep, we were on I-80, trying to stay ahead of the winter storm, when we hit a rather BIG accident. SEVEN tractor-trailers had left the road, crashed into one another and caused a several-mile-long backlog of other tractor-trailers, business travelers and a pissed-off redhead who just want to get home.

Cue the detour three miles from the crash. From the looks of the map, it appeared to only be about 5 miles out of the way. Awesome, I thought, we'll be back on track in no time. Funny, I don't remember Johnny Rolex telling me that "no time" was equal to "3 HOURS"! Seriously, the detour ran parallel to the interstate on a two lane road with drop-offs on both sides (no use turning around) and we could actually see the traffic back-up on the interstate...and I cried when I watched THAT traffic move and WE were still stuck. Oh, and my grandma wanted to get out and stretch her legs...because she was sitting in the front seat and I was wedged in the back behind my father at the wheel, two backpacks and a doggie bed. Travel Tip #2: 6'8" guys DON'T FOLD WELL!

We finally arrived in Chicago and my sister and brother-in-law joined us the next morning. That night for dinner, we had tacos (my parents are great cooks and turned ground turkey into a mexican delight). I had asked to drink milk to cool the burn of the medium salsa I would be enjoying. I would not have enjoyment.

As I prepared my first taco, I laid the meat on the tortilla, followed by shredded lettuce and cheese. All that was missing was that medium salsa. My father offered to hand it to me and as he brought it near...the bottle dropped out of his hands. At this point, I would've expected things to move in slow-motion, but they actually happened quite fast. The bottle dropped and knocked over my glass of milk...right on my right leg. If you've never had cold milk poured on your leg, it's not fun and, no, it does NOT do a body good. Here's the best part. I looked back at my dad's hand and HE WAS STILL HOLDING THE LID TO THE SALSA JAR. As it turns out, my sister had taken it upon herself to loosen the lid to make it easier for everyone at the table to get at the salsa, part of which now adorned the CEILING above the dining room table.

This was my Rectangular Box time. I had looked forward to going home for the holidays, to seeing my family and having warm meals cooked by someone other than Stouffer. But now, as I was going through the vacation, it appeared that the big guy upstairs had given me a Rectangular Box.

But in the following days, my dread would instead by replaced by touching warmth. Simple games of Scrabble with my family kept me smiling, warm coffee and cinnamon rolls greeted me in the morning, and everyone enjoyed their presents (I even got a Rectangular Box, which was filled with two shirts that I look forward to wearing...in colder weather). My mom even cried (and got me to cry too) when she and my dad finished their "Holiday Treasure Hunt" concocted by me and my sister to give them something special for Christmas.

And that's when it hit me. Every single Rectangular Box I've ever gotten, I've only seen the shirt/sweater/sweatsuit inside. But I missed the important part. The love that was put into picking out the shirt, the love put into wrapping it, and the love that was watching my face as I opened the package. And that's what I had here. I had a trip that wasn't quite what I expected, maybe not quite what I'd asked for. But, in the end, I'd seen and felt the love, which was the whole point all along.

To those of you traveling this holiday season, to those of you spending time with family and friends, and to those of you who will be celebrating alone or at work, take a moment amid all the clamor to be thankful for all the love shown to you throughout the year...and show a little of it to someone else in return.

Happy Holidays!
-B-