As they shouted out with glee

I was the first of the kids awake Christmas Day, this despite my late-night shenanigans and how bunny_hugger's brother usually wakes up first. I think he was the last one awake, possibly because he was playing Metroid into the small hours of the night. But I put on my red panda kigurumi (I didn't wear Angel, as bunny_hugger didn't have her Stitch kigurumi fixed yet) and went downstairs. bunny_hugger's father was relentlessly examining my gaiter, the small elastic neckband I wear for warmth and for a fast mask when needed. I'd left it on the dining room table with the last bag of gifts and all, and he wanted to understand it. I scooped it up and set it over in my jacket pocket. With that, though, I think all evidence of the escapade was settled and we can wait for it to age into a great family story.

bunny_hugger's father made breakfast, his traditional Christmas breakfast of scrambled eggs. He said he was putting ten eggs into the breakfast, which seemed a bit much, and made us talk of Condorcet's Omelette. But he meant that for me and bunny_hugger and himself. (Her brother didn't want any). bunny_hugger put the last ribbons and bows on her presents, and her brother talked with his partner a while on the phone, as he would do on and off all day. Part of that was figuring when she'd be available for a Facetime chat, so we could unwrap gifts together.

In the afternoon we got to opening gifts, finally, with bunny_hugger's brother once more assigned Christmas Elf duties. bunny_hugger's father was the toughest to give gifts to, as all he wanted were Amazon gift cards and that's, like, not even something you can wrap. bunny_hugger did give the secondary gift of setting up the gift cards so they'd be on his account and he could by whatever it was he wanted that he didn't want us to know about. bunny_hugger's mother was next-most-difficult, as she wanted neither jigsaw puzzles nor knitting supplies, two reliable gift genres. (At that she got one jigsaw puzzle anyway.)

The day before, when we were there, bunny_hugger's father asked her brother if he knew anything about this Amazon Firestick that got delivered to their house. Well, yes, he had ordered one, having it sent there, so he could give it to bunny_hugger. Her father has many virtues, but ``understanding not how to spoil presents'' is not among them. Neither is understanding why someone would be bothered knowing that they were being given something that was on their wish list. He would repeat the performance, oddly, Christmas Day, not with the Firestick. This time, instead, it would be with a piece of jewelry he was giving to her; when she opened it, he asked if it was the turkey brooch. It was not. Also, I was giving her a turkey brooch, so he managed to potentially spoil three presents. (I didn't reveal that another one was coming, so there was some surprise left. Also the brooches are quite different, so she'll have a healthy variety of things to wear leading up to Thanksgiving.)

bunny_hugger's brother, and partner, wanted cooking supplies. One of our last shopping trips was looking for casserole-baking dishes and we finally find a decent one at Meijer's. Also a heavy one, one we knew would be too much for him to bring back on the airplane. They also wanted a Parmesan-cheese grater, you know, the thing with a box you put a block of cheese in and a circular grinder you crank to shave off pieces. Easy to get, wouldn't you expect? I, too, figured you could buy them just about anywhere, like, Meijer's or Bed Bath And Beyond The Infinite or a thrift store or such. No. Like bagel guillotines, it turns out these are things that exist only in legend or, occasionally, in houses at least 30 years old (such as ours). While bunny_hugger was making cookies with her family the day before Christmas Eve, though, I had an inspiration, and remembered: there's a Williams-Sonoma in the little outdoor-mall Fake Town Centre by the movie theater. And their web site said they had cheese graters. So I dashed up there and ... could not find anything remotely cheese-grater-like, and had to give in and ask a staffer. Who was able to find it, although she had to investigate the area where those things are supposed to be; the only ones were far back on one of the lower shelves. Parmesan cheese graters now have these silicone paddings on all the metal pieces, which probably makes them more easy to clean and less awful to hold. I'll stick with our old-fashioned classic hard metal one, though, in case we ever need to grate Parmesan again.

For me, it ended up being my most Star Trek Christmas in years. I couldn't think of much that interested me what with ... you know ... everything. But there's Lower Decks, Picard, and a season of Discovery I haven't seen to go alon with the other two seasons of Discovery I haven't seen. But on top of that are a couple of models of starships, inspired by having been in Michael's and noticing they had a USS Grissom, the deadmeat starship from the start of The Search For Spock. I thought about getting it at the time, and then realized that was a good thing for a wish list, and then found other starships for the wishing. So now I have more models to build than I've had in a long while. Thanks to the installing of shelving in the basement I have a nice work space ready to go, if I can convince myself paint and glue fumes won't endanger our goldfish. (If they will, then I guess I need to wait for spring and work in the garage.)

Now for a few more pictures of Christmas Day, and the big reveal of the dessert.

So here's the potato sticks canister, fully spent and emptied, with the Yule Log loaf set on a plate beside.

The triumphant dessert, ready for the carving, as soon as it isn't a solid frozen block!

Some shaved almonds on top and it's all ready to be carved up and maybe even enjoyed!

Trivia: The word ``sleuth'' is a contraction of ``sleuth-hound'', that is, a bloodhound.
Source: The Invention of Murder: How the Victorians Revelled in Death and Detection and Created Modern Crime, Judith Flanders.

Currently Reading: The Subatomic Monster, Isaac Asimov.