How we spent Christmas, 2005

HE SAID: As I approach 30, I think more about big-picture issues. Smaller moments take on bigger meaning.

I wonder if I say certain things or act certain ways because it's imbedded in my psychology since I was a child. Why do I believe in God? Why am I always trying to please people?

Another question I think of often is how I view the world. Am I an optimist or pessimist? The older I get, the more skeptical I become, I'm afraid. I only believe half of what I'm told. Everyone has an agenda these days, whether it be politicians, pitchmen, businessmen and sometimes family members.

But on Christmas day, I was an optimist.

Callie and I were alone on Christmas day. We had already exchanged gifts with both of our families; Drew was celebrating at his mom's house.

That left just me and my cute and talented wife to curl up on the couch and enjoy the quietness that had escaped us in the days and weeks prior.

But Callie was sick, her throat burning, her nose clogged and her eyes droopy.

We had no cough syrup in stock. In fact, we had no food at home whatsoever.

So we headed to the only place you can get supplies on Christmas. God bless you Walgreen's.

I also had four rolls of undeveloped film, so we purchased some nasty cold remedy, a couple of cans of soup to take home for later, and then headed out to find a place to eat lunch while my film was being developed.

So Callie and I embarked on a journey. I called it a journey because it sounded better than "a desperate attempt for a lonely couple to find a meal on Christmas Day." We went to the usual places. Cracker Barrel. O'Charlie's. Applebee's. Ryan's. Closed, closed, closed and closed.

We wandered around Cape, passing a few open Chinese restaurants until we settled on Shogun, the new Japanese place. Callie knew she wouldn't care much for the food. Food doesn't fit her highly selective taste unless it has cheese, apparently.

When we entered, there were three other couples sitting at the sushi bars, surrounding individual grills. To the table on our right a large, old man couldn't stop coughing. Closer to our right, a well-intended old lady gave us helpful tips on what to order and how to eat.

After we ordered, the chef came out and flipped his spatula around much the same way a Globetrotter would treat a basketball. He shot flames high into the air, for what reason I'm not sure. But it was cool, anyway, kind of like a Trans Siberian Orchestra show sans the guitars and with a splash of terriaki. The chef was a bit silly, which added to the entertainment. He wished us a Merry Christmas when he finished.

I enjoyed the meal. Callie, not so much. She bemoaned the lack of cheese on the menu and said we were pathetic people for spending Christmas chasing after cough syrup and eating at a Japanese restaurant.

I told her this would be a Christmas we'd never forget, kind of like Ralphie's family on a Christmas Story. We had already given and received numerous gifts. I considered the moment at the Japanese restaurant another one. She was sick. And grumpy. But I wasn't going to let her ruin my Christmas mojo.

We picked up the film, enjoyed the photos, and Callie spent most of the rest of the evening napping in the new house robe I bought her for Christmas. That was fine with me. Napping, I have found as I approach 30, is one of life's finer luxuries.

I hope all of you had a Merry Christmas. I know I did.

SHE SAID: I'm still sick. And grumpy. More next week on the Millers' desperate, multi-year search to discover the source of Callie's sundry symptoms, including updates on the latest developments. Right now, I need a new throat and a new nose, preferrably one that's not quite so red and stuffy. They don't sell new body parts at Walgreen's, I found.

I would be much more optimistic if they did.

bmiller@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 122

cmiller@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 128