Today is the start of Kwanzaa, the celebration that honors African heritage in African-American culture and is observed from December 26th to January 1st, culminating in a feast and gift-giving. This as opposed to a Quonset hut, kwɒnsɪt, a lightweight prefabricated structure of corrugated galvanized steel having a semicircular cross-section. This is nothing to celebrate, but the two words can be easily confused. There is no Kwanzaa hut for Santa to come down the chimney, but many people celebrate both Kwanzaa and Christmas.

Christmas has now passed, and I got a couple of new casual shirts from my wife’s nieces and nephews. The Christmas dinosaur shirt, looks like a winter sweater featuring a T-Rex with its characteristic hypochrondoplasia. It nicely coordinates with the dino socks I received last year. I think they’re trying to tell me that I will soon become extinct, but I figure that I’m probably good for another 20 Christmas mornings.

Wine and cookie consumption is at an all-time high. We sent ahead six bottles of Stag’s Leap in anticipation of various gatherings throughout the week. Cookie baking and buying has so far kept pace. In my opinion, Cabernet goes great with chunky chocolate chips. There was hardly room for the turkey, ham, chicken & noodles, green bean casserole, mashed or cheesy potatoes, gravy, stuffing, rolls, breads, veggies, and assorted pies. Diet Coke helped fight-off the sleepy effects of tryptophan, but a one-hour nap was still necessary.

Nothing says Christmas like a Rocky Balboa movie marathon or cookies for breakfast. The huge pile of gifts that were under the tree have disappeared. Baby Cole was the primary entertainment, along with three dogs. Almost everyone received a framed picture, calendar, or book of Cole, but it was dinosaurs for me. The short, green arms remind me of some of my friends when it’s time to pick up the lunch check. This same disability also apparently applies to helping with the dirty holiday dishes. Sadly, I didn’t even get Cole in my stocking!

“I’ll be home for Christmas,” has never been our song. In the twenty years that my wife and I have been together, we’ve never spent the day at home. It’s always been celebrated at her sister’s house. Someday that will probably change, as my mother-in-law just unwrapped her 98th Christmas, spending 19 now without her husband. This year we at least avoided a hospital visit that spoiled the last holiday get-together.

We will be home for New Year’s, as we unwind from the Christmas fast-track. I will also not have to deliver Chinese food to the hospital this year. Instead, we’ll enjoy some fine dining in Portland. New Year’s Day is also the end of Kwanzaa, so I wish you a Merry Kwanzaa and a Happy New Year.