An Inch of the Grinch each year
process of "Thank you so much, I had no clues!", and "Oh my Gods!", and then you go back to bed. You sleep for a little bit and roll out of bed around 12, 12:30. You walk into the kitchen where mom tells you, "Wash up, we're heading over to Auntie Kathie's place." God bless her, but her house is about as boring as a stone dungeon. You would rather get a tooth pulled, but for some reason year after year your family (who are about as exciting as a stone dungeon themselves) decides to have some annual festivities take place there. This usually means you're sitting by yourself, acting like an anti-social miser, while you eat dry turkey. You spend your time there watching really bizarre and cheesy Christmas "Classics", and you know you're going to drop cranberry sauce on your new white Old Navy T-shirt.
when I wake up on the morning of the 25th. I wish I could wake my older brother up way too early, and be greeted by mounds of decorative misshapen boxes surrounding the tree like a red and green fortress. I wish I could leave Rudolph and his friends the carrots and celery they deserve (after all they must be hungry with all that hard work they're doing). And most of all, I wish I could have that same sparkle in my eyes that I got when I read the thank you note from Santa. He was always grateful for the milk, whether it was warm or not.
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ARTWORK
Top Left:
"Apples, Cups, Sticks"
Rachel Clarke, 2011
Honorable Mention, Painting
Top Right:
"The Argument"
Sarah Spencer, 2011
National Gold Key, Photography