My family has pioneered new Christmas (Eve) Traditions. This morning we woke to the quiet sounds of Boone navigating through Netflix (turned to obscene volumes) to get to the episode of the original Star Trek where the crew of the Enterprise meets up with the entity known as Redjack ("Wolf in the Fold"). It starts out with a belly dancer who is quickly murdered Jack the Ripper style.
As we pondered the (predictable) outcome of the episode we heard the angel song of sizzling sausage in the skillet as Mandy made breakfast. Homemade biscuits, homemade gravy, eggs and homemade apple butter. Roll me into 2012.
And the apple butter is like angel kisses. I could eat enough to stun a goat. Actually, I think I did...
Mandy just asked me what kind of cookies (I thought) Santa would like and I told her to ask me later because all of the blood had left my brain to go fight a battle in my belly. I actually felt a little woozy when she asked.
Anyway, now my wife will blast Christmas music at obscene levels and drive me and children from the house like rats leaving a sinking ship. That's okay, we will sacrifice the gift of hearing for the delectable baked goods that her musical trance will produce.
I wonder if there are subtitles for Star Trek on Netflix?