So back in August when I got my TiVo, the idea was that I would get no Christmas presents because that was enough. Did this happen? What do you think? This is why I am the most spoiled person ever to have lived who isn't actually royalty.

I woke up at 7.30a. because it doesn't matter when I go to bed, and it doesn't matter how old I get, I still get up with the larks of Christmas morning.

Christmas Eve, Mom did the whole "Stocking? You still want a stocking?" routine, but she's been pulling that shit every year for the last ten or fifteen years and it doesn't fill me with fear anymore. Because there was a stocking on my table under my little gold tree exactly where there should be.

In it was a 61* cap, a great pair of silver skeleton earrings, a set of cleverly made pins like a pair of glasses and a little clock, a CSI novelization, a Discovery Channel key ring, a stuffed pink unicorn light pull, and a pair of glow in the dark glasses (Mom seems to think that I am a raver).

And I also had a caramel apple from me, since every year I get two at Century City, eat one immediately and save the other for Christmas morning. The one that I had the other day was mealy and awful, so I scraped the caramel off with my teeth and threw the rest away. I was worried that my Christmas would be completely ruined with a bad apple, but 'twas not to be, it was just great.

Everyone lets out a sigh of relief, I have no doubt.

Mom got up and we went downstairs and made blueberry muffins and watched The Price is Right, then got ready for 11.30a mass.

11.30a mass on a Christmas morning isn't anything like the zoo that midnight at 10a are, it was rather relaxing, actually. The choir isn't there, which means that they aren't hogging all of the singing, and it's not such a very high mass so it's shorter, though the 10a had just ended and it looked as though they had just put out a fire.

"I don't think they used enough incense," I said to Mom, "I can actually almost see you."

I do love St. Charles Borromeo, it is such a beautiful church, but there are many beautiful churches, that is not the source of my mineral reaction to it. This is the church where I was baptized, where I went to CCD, where I had my first communion, where I had my confirmation. All I need to do is get married and have my funeral and every major religious event in my life will be completely centralized.

It's stunning, it really is, all dark wood and grey stone, all elaborately carved. The altar alone is carved wood, about fifty feet high with a life-sized crucifix in the centre. I take it all for granted, but I really looked at it yesterday, and it's just stunning.

I am completely at home there, it belongs to me, down to the bone. And even though I have spent a large portion of my adolescence at St. Jane Francis and I have not lived full-time in Los Angeles for over 20 years, it is still my church and there can never be another, because no matter how hard you try, you can never find another place that you have been going to your entire life.

Anyway, after another mass where all we sang was "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "O Come All Ye Faithful" (well, we got "Joy to the World" as well, but I am so bored with these carols!) we went home and opened presents!

Or rather, we went home and Mom tried to figure out how to use the camera and I started my bread pudding, because we never open our presents in a timely manner!

O, wait, actually we went to the store first, because I realized when I looked at the pile under the tree that I had forgotten to get Mom a card, and it doesn't matter how many damn presents there are, there had better be a card, so I was like, "Let's go to the store!" "Why?" "Not telling! And give me money, I didn't bring my wallet."

When I gave it to her, I told her the story and she laughed and said that she had only gotten my card the day before! So she forgot too, but she beat me in remembering.

So, finally opened the presents, and there was lots of great stuff. My grey and black Gap sweater, Victoria's Secret underwear, Target socks and jammies and the two books that I had picked out in Brentanos, Black House and The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents.

As far as things I didn't pick out myself, I got a brown cardigan that I desperately need to go with my brown dress for shows, a green tunic and pants set (Mom said, "For a person who never goes anywhere, you certainly have alot of dress clothes!"), a new pair of Birks, because you can never have too many pairs of comfy sandals, a Lion King towel, and Crafty Cat Crimes, Capote and The AMC Classic Movie Companion.

And then I got a Burt's Bees Starter Kit and a Burt's Bees Facial in a Kit from Amanda, the DVD of the MST3K version of Mitchell from Kim Rollins, these great body washes from Melanie's kids (Katherine's was freesia scented, Rebeccah's was lavendar, and Donald's was orange with this spiky creature inside that looks like a water hedgehog!) and from Melanie, the heaviest gift on earth, a shower caddy with a mirror and eleven different products included! It was fabulous.

Anyone who didn't know how absolutely crazy I am about bath stuff would think that my friends were trying to give me a gentle hint about perhaps bathing a trifle more frequently, but those monkey kids are my youngest readers (and I'll bet they are getting an advanced education on language and what I'd like to do to Russell Crowe) and they know what I like.

After opening this staggering amount of gifts, Mom opened hers and then we made dinner. Or she made dinner and I made mashed potatoes, not quite an even distribution of duties, but I had important TV to watch.

Dinner was great, the stuffing was much better than the stuffing that I make that always ends up so dry, and for once we didn't forget either the rolls or the cranberry sauce.

Then Mom fell asleep in front of the TV and I did the dishes and put away the leftovers without being asked. Do I get a cookie?

Today's horoscope:
Creative efforts pay off. Your abilities and flair contribute to material rewards. You are appreciated.

One year ago today:
ME
I am the daughter of the woman with no giblets.

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Last Updated Tues 25 December 23:39:09 2001