The Feast of the True Framily

Yesterday was the feast of the true framily. I firmly believe every good holiday should come with at least one feast day, especially if it's in the depressingly sunless winter time.

When I was on my mission, I learned that Lithuanians have this deliciously rich tradition called Kučios, or Christmas Eve. I never got to go to a real Kučios dinner, because it was a big family  day, and all the family came home from it from all over.  We went and visited and orphanage instead, which was richly rewarding.

However, because of this I have only read about all the superstitions and traditions associated with Kučios, so I never felt comfortable trying to recreate it. 

So when the time came for my own holiday season being dreamed into existance, I decided it should have a feast day on Christmas eve. And so it came to pass... ;) because I made it so.

Ever since I was at least a teenager, I've felt that the most important people in your life are your Framily. A group not bound by blood, but something stronger than blood. I always described them as  family that get you so well they are also your friends, and friends bonded so tightly to you they become as close or closer than your family.

If I were to make my own Kučios type celebration (which I did), then Framily that could come should be the ones invited, and the ones that couldn't come remembered and honnored.

Unfortunately  most people can't come on Christmas eve. But I did have a lovely 7 course meal (thanks to the instant pot and two blenders, It only took 3 hrs to make instead of a week) with my exfiancee, and I think it was a lovely healing day of friendship for us. We also did those British Christmas crackers, because I always wanted to see what they were about.

Any way, now it's christmas/hanukka, and I have left the day as it has been for my life, and I am chilling at home watching Netflix alone, and napping alot, which is exactly as I wish. 

There was one Christmas drama moment, I suppose I could share, as a Christmas bonus...

So I was talking to my mom on the phone after emptying my giant stocking of stuff my mom sent me, and Nick had had his toy for about an  hour. He managed to get the squeek out of the toy before I called , so I had put it up where he couldn't grab it (I thought)
Mid phone conversation he jumped up on the table, grabbed the squeek, and swallowed it before I could get away. So then I'm on the phone with my mom and start cussing up a storm because now I'm probably going to have to take him to the vet, and it will cost a small fortune.  It pretty much ended the call with, well let's hope it passes OK, just watch him.

20 minutes later,  he threw it up. All is well. Merry Christmas.