Whew – the holiday craziness has finally given way to post-celebratory malaise and I am coming up for air. (But as for getting the Christmas decorations down? That might require a late-to-the-game Christmas miracle.)
This was a “Texas Christmas” as I refer to our every-other-year pilgrimage to spend the holiday with The Mr’s fam in the Lone Star State.
I love these Christmases for all of the ways they are so very different from Christmas at home, and thinking about it weeks later still has me smiling.
I know I am in Texas for Christmas when:
Upon cracking my eyes open each morning, this is the first thing I see:
– All I can think about is Kolaches, and Green Sauce, and (I hear angels) Chicken Fried Steak from the Old Montgomery Steak House. ::::wiping a bit of drool::::
– Holiday lawn decorations are as likely to include the Texas flag and bucking broncos as they might snowmen, Santa, and Nativity scenes. (And Santa is probably wearing a cowboy hat.)
– I laugh so hard with my Sister-in-law that I either suck wine up my nose or almost pee my pants.
– A normal sight is my Father-in-law sitting on the back patio offering season’s greetings (and maybe a little nip of something fabulous) to his neighbors as they play through on the golf course in the Houston “winter” weather.
– Shiner seems like a really good idea. Like any time, day or night.
– I sit up shamelessly late reading romance-intrigue novels gifted from the fabulous author who lives down the street from my in-laws.
– Bigger hair also seems like a really good idea.
– Another normal sight out the back window is of neighbors navigating their boats out into the main part of the lake (again, Texas “winter.”)
– My rural-family roots come bubbling up to the surface and I abandon my sometimes-attempts to not say “y’all” and just let it flow. Along with “fixin’ to” do things, and blessing the hearts of those who tick me off.
– I come home thinking “we need to get down there more often,” and spend the next month trying to perfect a Green Sauce recipe, listening to bluegrass, and blessing everybodys’ hearts, y’all.
Love every single bit of it.
Reluctantly Suburban 