Saturday, December 22, 2007

Christmas with Dan.

Dan with his stocking.

Me with my stocking.

American children have stockings lined up on their fireplace at Christmas. Polish-American children do not. I have always wanted a stocking (because I always want any excuse for more presents) but I never got one. That is, until last year. Dan, an American child, did have a sock o' gifts during his childhood and recommended that we continue the tradition in our own home. We even have our own (non-working) fireplace for them to hang. Last year, we did stockings and presents. This year, because I am broke, we only did stockings with a $100 limit.

Dan leaving for California on Saturday, we planned our Christmas night on Friday--although Dan said he had to work late. I prepared by baking some American-style (not German-style) chocolate chip cookies because he's been asking for cookies all week.

Cookie dough ready to bake.

He came home around 8:30. We ordered sushi. And then we exchanged gifts. I got a double-sided fabric belt, cashmere socks, two flannel underwear/shorts, and pretty Asian-themed earrings. After we opened, Dan had to spend an hour discussing why the gifts he gave me were so great. He was feeling insecure that I did not like them, which is not true. It's just that he was really wowed away by my gifts: a German soccer jersey bought in Berlin, two books, socks and a movie package of Whoopers, which he proceeded to eat. (I made cookies! But he ate those too). I just happen to be a good present-giver.

We meant to spend the rest of the evening watching Project Runway reruns and more time together, but in typical Dan fashion, he was procrastinating packing. I know this all too well. He is the worst packer ever. First he will do anything to avoid packing. Go on the computer, eat a cookie, call his parents. Then he will need to play music to get him in the mood for packing. So I have to endure him playing not one, but maybe two or three songs, where he just stands around and rocks out. Finally, he will go in the bedroom in pack, and the process itself takes hours. I went in there after 45 minutes and he had like three things in the suitcase. I ended up falling asleep on the couch. No Project Runway, no quality time, but at least I have a lot of great presents.

He left this morning, leaving me with a kiss, the garbage to take out and a tuperware full of cookies. I have the place to myself for a week.

The earrings I got.

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