I don't know about the rest of you, but the holidays to my family means...war. A constant struggle of who's house, what food and best presents. A true gladiatorial contest of epic proportions and portions. It generally starts around my cousin's birthday November 8th and carries right on through to mine December 27th.
The first battle has already been waged and my Aunt has pulled out the big guns, "we just want to do something with OUR family, no hard feelings." Of course this may only seem like flares, a simple warning, but this declaration comes after staking Thanksgiving territory as her responsibility. Shock waves are felt through the ranks of Grandparents and my own Mother, they retort and bristle with annoyance; imeediately stirring into a frezy. With my Aunt's blockade piggybacking on said cousin's ignorance of the treaties which explicitly outline saying "thank you" for birthday calls and gifts, her side of the family is now...the enemy. Mother and Grandma prepare for war, for with Grandma's new fiancee and looming wedding, sending peace envoys is unlikely.
Old hatchets thought to be buried are hastily dug up and thrust at the enemy, and Grandma plays the ultimate weapon, the "I'm the Mother" card. No movement yet from behind enemy lines, but true to Italian family form, there will be no end without surrender.
Happy F&@*ing Holidays.