Stuffed like a Butterball

Back home the day after Christmas, Boxing Day, is traditionally the biggest shopping day of the year. In the US, Boxing Day seems to be the biggest day of the year for returning things.
The wife and I spent our Boxing Day preparing and roasting 24 little chickens (those alleged Cornish game hens) for a party of 20 or so people that never materialized. So instead it was just a party of 13 or so people. And now there are a lot of extra little chickens filling the fridge.
They were tasty though, and I certainly won’t mind taking a few of them back home with me.
The problem with my holidays is that they usually aren’t. Unless we go away somewhere, we always seem to end up working, mostly catering for parties the wife’s folks are having. I guess it’s partly our fault…we seem to have developed a reputation for cooking really well. I suppose there are worse reputations to have.
Christmas day was a pleasant event. The wife’s family opens their gifts at the stroke of midnight (or as close to it as she can get). So we were up until about 2 AM Christmas Day exchanging and opening gifts. Santa was surprisingly good to me this year. I must have been a very good boy.
Then it was off to bed, and then breakfast at her brother’s place. Followed by more gift opening, and then the roasting of the turkey. Christmas feasting was at 5, and then everybody lapsed into a food induced coma for a few hours before heading off to the airport at 9PM to pick up the wife’s cousin. Then it was back to the compound and her aunt and uncle’s place for more gift exchanging and gift opening.
All of that made Christmas a long, tiring but satisfying day. Lots of good food, lots of presents, and best of all lots of family to hang around with.