And there was a competition for Ugliest Sweater.
But despair was quickly dashed as I remembered I live within walking distance of a Goodwill, and that I live in the Mountains, in the South, in a town full of Trust Fund Hippies.
I spent an embarrassing amount of money at Goodwill buying the tackiest bright red, sweater tube dress, the grossest, grassiest green skirt, an Urkel sweater for Addie, and a shit ton of gaudy and cheesy ornaments to decorate them with. And when Addie got off work, he was brimming over with new found inspirado for his sweater (which was surprising--I thought I was going to have to fugly his sweater), so we went out to get supplies for him.
And when he was just about to checkout, Addie uttered this game changing statement:
"I'm really surprised you're not doing a Hanukkah sweater. After all, the best part of Christmas for you is Hanukkah."
and it struck me. I am all about Hanukkah. What was I thinking?
I'm not Jewish. In fact, I'm half Southern Baptist, half Methodist.
I can't remember when my preoccupation with Judaism started. I think it started when I first learned about the Holocaust back in elementary school, because I can remember checking out books on the Jews from the media center and getting weird looks from the kids around me.
But I think I fell in love with the Jews when I was in high school. Back then, my brother Shayne worked at this restaurant called The Woodside Deli in Rockville, MD. Rockville has a really big Jewish population, and The Woodside was a big Jew Hub. I loved it, and we would trek out there all the time for food and culture.
Also, around this time was when I realized that most of my favorite screen writers, actors, comedians, directors, and producers were Jews. I started giving out Hanukkah cards to my friends for Christmas. I started getting presents wrapped in Star of David wrapping paper. My parents bought me an electric menorah and demanded that I hang it up in my window because my room faced the street:
|my room, circa 2005|
But my weird obsession with the Jews increased ten-fold when I moved to Long Island for school, and 9 out of 10 people assumed I was Jewish. I guess it was the sarcasm, large nose, dark hair combo? And later when I was in Fairfax, going to Mason, I had successfully convinced a few people that I was Jewish without even trying. I loved it when Charlotte converted for Harry on Sex and the City. Hell, my blogspot ID is audreykosher.
So I've had a thing for the Jews. They're awesome. They're full of history and tradition and culture. They're Chosen.
*end side note
So I spent more money on crafts to make the Ugly Hanukkah Sweater (I got to return the clothes to Goodwill, but not the ornaments. boo) And when we got home, we got hard to work. And we stayed up til 4 AM, scalding our fingers with hot glue while making our sweaters.
|Addie's adorable ugly sweater, complete with Whoopie Cushion Santa and purposely misspelled "birt day"|
|the little cake just kills me|
|as does the drunk grin on the snow man. The reindeer were kids socks that we cut up|
|pipe cleaner menorahs, foam letters, felt dreidels, and SoD|
|"It's like a 1990's Hanukkah exploded all over you"|
|these guys scratched/snagged everyone who walked by me that night. plus they look like spiders o_0|
|my earrings were actually wine glass caddies that my sister in law Jess made for me a couple years back|
I'm really sad I didn't get any pictures of Addie in his finished sweater, but we all know how fatally allergic Addie is to having his picture taken. And I didn't get any pictures at the party because I was too busy snagging my menorah's on ugly sweaters, chatting up funny people and eating the biggest and most delicious spread of food I've seen at a house party--seriously, my co-worker and her husband know how to throw a party.
Alas, neither of us won the Ugliest Sweater title. Here's the kicker--a girl in a red tube dress covered in gaudy ornaments did. ARGH THAT WAS MY FIRST IDEA!
But it really doesn't matter, because the party was great, and we all had a fantastic time, so everyone came out a winner. Even Bart, who somehow got into the closed oven to eat the treats we stashed in there on purpose so he wouldn't get to them.
Just like Ron Burgundy and Baxter.