Even though we celebrated Christmas on the 27th, it felt exactly like Christmas with all our regular traditions: open stockings first, then eat sticky buns, then start it on the presents. Dad passes out the presents, which means he always ends up with a huge stash left at the end. Sometime in the midst of present opening, someone starts making Bloody Mary’s or Raspberry Bellini’s. Immediately after opening presents, my brother falls asleep in the wrappings and my parents fix BLT’s or “special eggs.” (I don’t know why we call them that, they’re scrambled eggs with mustard.) Turns out it matters not what the date is, but where you are, who you’re with and what you do. Merry Christmas, ya’ll.