Over the river and through the woods . . .

But instead of to Grandma’s house we go, it’s to Grandpa and Poppa B’s house. And we’re Grandpa and Poppa B.

I was one of the very few people I knew who had all four of my grandparents up until I was nearly 40 years old. Now, after what feels like a blink of an eye, Ricky and I have lost not only all four of my grandparents, but each of our four parents as well.

So this year, it’s all new. And Ricky and I are suddenly the official patriarchs of both sides of our families.

Being a family of church musicians (3 of our 4 children, as well as Ricky and on rare occasion I) take part in worship music, and the next two days will be no different.

On Christmas Eve, after church, my kids will join us for an oven full of artery clogging family favorites. A few glasses of wine, gifts wrapped in love, and some nostalgia surrounding those who are not with us this year will create a bittersweet evening.

On Christmas Morning, Ricky’s side will gather at Nana Ethel’s house for Santa’s loot and sticky buns. Since Nana Ethel is a jet-setting Nana, she’s hopping a plane at noon and the gang will head back to Grandpa and Poppa B’s for brunch and naps.

And to close out the evening, an orphan colleague spending the holiday away from home¬†will join us for whatever meal scraps may remain and a few more glasses of wine by the roaring fire. (you can make a gas fireplace roar, you just need to be REALLY careful) ūüôā

And like so many of our neighbors of¬† ‘a certain age’¬† on Thursday Ricky and I will hop a plane to take some of the chill off our creaking bones by¬†relaxing at our home in Boca.

Today’s Gay Agenda: Sorry to disappoint, but Ricky and I live pretty much a Norman Rockwell Christmas portrait, except there’s two chubby, gray haired men serving heaping platters of food, rather than a kindly old lady with a ruffled apron and her hair in a bun.

I made Ricky get rid of his ruffled apron. And the bun.

Merry Christmas from Brad & Ricky!

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