When I was a kid, we always had a party on Christmas Eve. Ham, turkey, family, friends, music, games, and a movie to cap off the night. Then, one by one, everyone my parents knew started to divorce, and my parents followed suit.

Our annual Christmas party gave way to the split-Christmas. One with my mom and one with my dad. Eventually, I would find my biological family, get married, and end up going to six different Christmases. I put an end to all that after my son was born. Fuck all y’all! You want to see me for Christmas? You come to me.

As Bonnie and I started our life together and began cultivating traditions with our own family, Christmas shifted from the 24th to the 25th. Yeah, I know Christmas is on the 25th. What I mean is that we would do all of the Christmas stuff on Christmas Day instead of Christmas Eve. It always felt weird to me.

Christmas Eve is filled with the same anticipation that Halloween, a birthday, or a trip to Disneyland is. It’s like setting off firecrackers: the fun is in the buildup to lighting it. Celebrating a birthday the day after isn’t the same as doing it on the big day.

So, this year, I decided we should eat Christmas Dinner tonight instead of tomorrow, in part because I want to get back to celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve, and in part because I didn’t want Bonnie to spend the whole day cooking as she has every year for as long as I can remember.

I smoked a tri-tip and made potatoes au gratin. I meant to make green beans too, but I forgot about them. It wasn’t anything close to Christmas when I was a kid, but it was nice, and now we can all just chill tomorrow. Merry Christmas!