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The inaugural Christmas at Tante Joan's Brooklyn Heights apartment is exceeding expectations. There has been much making of merry-- almost unheard-of levels of joyous celebration amongst my low-energy family. Last night we played much salsa music and every single one of us kicked up our heels in quite a raucous fashion. (There are pictures. You won't see them.)

Even my dad got up and danced. We kind of forced him to, but then he got into it.

Yes, I danced. I danced with everyone. (There are five of us, total.) I danced in a conga line. I shook it, baby. Me. Yes.

We ate of the snackies, watched White Christmas on tv and sang along to the "Sisters" song (except for my Party Pooper sister); we watched of course, A Muppet Family Christmas, singing along to all the carols, and the 2002 SNL Christmas special. When we turned out the lights to go to sleep, we couldn't stop giggling about Schweddy balls.

Today we woke up, ate our sumptuous breakfast casserole, opened our gifties, napped, and then walked across the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. It was glorious. The colours of the sunset on the skyscrapers made the whole city looked decked out for Christmas. The moon is insanely bright and full tonight and it was magnificent against the lavender Monet-painting sky.

I got everything I wanted (well, I will when Amazon decides to deliver my gifties), including the long-awaited Denise interchangeable needles set(!!!) And, yes, my Season Two DVDs are on the way. (No tee shirt, boo.)

My sister got her iPod, and Santa Claus is also ordering me a new battery for my computer, and a vinyl sleeve for my poor, scratched iPod.

The pernil is almost ready. We will all smell like garlic for the rest of the week, so fair warning to anyone who has to share space with us...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:01 PM | shower me with attention