The holidays are often a chore, as we work overtime to commemorate the season in dutiful and predictable ways, so it’s a welcome relief to be able to celebrate fairly irresponsibly even if it involves more than a modicum of planning including at least ten packages of playing cards and more than four dozen people on bicycles willing to pedal through the woods and up steep hills just for the sheer nonsense of it.
A steady drizzle early in the evening did little to detour the faithful and while it may have dampened one’s outerwear, it sure failed to throw any water on the celebratory mood of things—which, also, no doubt was aided by the number of Christmas lights that adorned people’s rigs, not to mention a reasonably dirty Santa and a dancing evergreen tree.
I figured out a new strategy for my checkpoint stop; last year, racers earned their bonus by joining me in the enjoyment of my stash; this year, by contrast, I provided the opportunity for participants to return the favor to me, a successful plan that resulted in my going all giggly for many hours afterward.
The reindeer games were a rousing success and made more hilarious by the setting which afforded you the opportunity to stagger around over fallen logs as you continually forgot that there they were all around. That no one threw up—at least on my watch—is probably a minor Christmas miracle and, as far as I can tell, there was only one significant crash, and that happened on the way home, more evidence, I believe, that the Lord surely does love fools, particularly around the immaculate birthday of His only son.
Gifts were exchanged, songs were sung, and dance floor Chelanigans abounded; it felt like the best sort of family affair, one abounding with drunken uncles and crazy aunts, real holiday spirit and not just all those in people’s glasses.
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