Come With Us! You'll LOVE Christmas in Victorville.

Every year on Christmas day we get together with Giancarlo's Mexican side of the family. . . usually somewhere far from here that I get a kick out of calling "Fontucket". . .but this year the gathering was held in the Southern California high desert, also known as Victorville.

If you've ever driven down I-15 from Las Vegas to Los Angeles, you've been through Victorville.  It is one of those California desert towns, much like Barstow, where, when you get out of the car to get gas you are instantly fried to a crisp.  That is, if it is summer time.  If it is winter and you're from the coast, you remark at how much colder it is in Victorville....freezing; something like 50 degrees.

Victorville was chosen because Giancarlo's cousin just bought a home there.  You see, Jaime is a young bachelor just out of the military, and he is now a helicopter pilot who makes daily flights from Barstow to Van Nuys and back.  He has worked his ass off and has pilot's license, a BMW, and a huge house to show for it.  I have to say that I really admire the guy.

Jaime put in his time in Iraq and Afghanistan, which is something I could never even think of doing.  As a youth, my worst nightmare was that we would go to war and I would be drafted.  My worst nightmare ever.  Little did I know that there were things I could have done to get myself out of it. . . like facing the truth, for instance.  Of course now that wouldn't work for me anymore.  I wonder how many gay teens are saying to themselves, "DAMN IT!  NOW what if I get drafted?  My get out of the military free card has just been revoked!"  (Don't get me wrong.  I am most grateful to all of those who helped bring Don't Ask Don't Tell to an end.)

But I digress.  That has nothing to do with Jaime.  His bachelor pad royale, however, has everything to do with Jaime.  I wish I had taken pictures of his place.  From his alcohol-themed decor to the bed next to the pool in back, it screams party.  And I respect a man who knows how to party. . . IF he knows how to work, too.  Which he obviously does.

Enough.  Clearly,  I may have the tiniest little crush on cousin Jaime.

Christmas in Victorville started out slow.  I sat on the couch in the living room and watched about 5 hours of the Homily of the Holy Father with Pietro, my father-in-law, making irreverent comments about the  cardinals' costumes and how their faces did not look undiabolic.   We also chortled about how the beams of light surrounding the head of the baby Jesus looked like golden spears piercing his wee head.  We mused that the Baby Jesus seemed to be waving non-chalantly at the world, like, "Hey, how ya doin'?"



Meanwhile, the other guys played beer pong on the back patio.

Soon, Frying of Fish began.  I was thrilled to be watching the Homily of the Holy Father while the rank odor of fried fish sunk into my clothes and hair.  However, I made the best of it and kept a smile on my face and a beer in my hand.  And it wasn't so bad.

The food was pretty good.  Chiles rellenos, cheese and green chili tamales, rice, and beans all made me and my tummy happy.

Next came the Insanity of the Gifts.  Every year I just have to sit back and marvel at the mad chaos that goes on with around fifty people all burrowing through piles of presents, screaming out of the names of the recipients, paper flying and hugs, kisses, and mil gracias abounding.  This part of the get-together makes Giancarlo crazy because he would like to have each person open their gifts one at a time while everyone else silently observes with their hands folded in their laps.  I kind of agree, but I enjoy the madness of the spectacle so much.  I remember last year, somehow, Elsa realized that Diego hadn't gotten as many gifts as the other children and she sat in the corner, scowling and pouting, refusing to be consoled.  I won't lie.  I enjoyed that spectacle, too.

Toward the end, we posed for the Group Photo.  As you can imagine, this process took at least 30 minutes.

There are a few things I should point out in this photograph.  First of all, in the very back, the youngest one of the clan, 5-month old Sebastian, is proudly holding a beer in the air.  Classic.   Also, notice that our cousin Claudia is holding an old man doll, who, coincidentally, looks just like my father in law, Pietro, on the left.  Notice, too, that Diego, near the center in a blue shirt is providing us with his best photo face.

The best part of Christmas in Victorville was that we spent the night at the Hilton Garden Inn and that we were fast asleep by 10:00.  Everyone else  in the photo above camped out on the floors, surely collapsing at around 3:30 or 4:00 a.m.  At least ten people slept on Jaime's bedroom floor.  One person even slept on the stairs, I was told.

I've found that the hardest kind of family togetherness for me is traveling in the car with them.  Upon arrival at our destination, the plastic on the interior of the car door inevitably has giant scratch marks from my clenched claws, desperately trying to scratch their way to freedom.  Nobody seems to notice this, though, because I keep them distracted with my cheery smile, calm disposition, and considerate, pleasant conversation.

Come with us!  You'll love Christmas in Victorville!