So when he throws a holiday party, it's full of Miss Americas and all of the very talented people he runs with. He had a piano player on every floor of his house playing Christmas tunes. There were guitar players and harpists and other random musicians at every corner. And then there was me. Creeping around his big old house all by myself with a bottle of champagne just the way I like it.
And did I mention there was food? Lots and lots of amazing food.
My family stayed on the third floor, which is also where the party ended around 3:00 a.m. surrounded by the piano singing Jingle Bells. Although I had retired for the night much earlier (I'm a happy hour kinda gal, not an after-hours gal.) So in an attempt to keep the late night party animals from bugging me while I slept I chose to sleep on the floor beside the bed, not on it- a fact which would lead my parents to think I was lost from about 1:00 a.m.- 3:00 a.m. But that's neither here nor there at this point.
The third floor is about twice the size of my apartment in Chicago. Pretty standard for a man who lives alone, right?
Sadly this is the only photo my family managed to get for the night. If you cross your eyes it actually doesn't look that bad. And if you're drunk it actually looks really clear.
The following morning I did what any normal girl would do and proceeded to creep around the house taking photos in all of the practice rooms pretending I was one of my uncle's elite pageant girls. I think I fit right in.
I know what you're probably thinking, "But Taylor, if you're uncle is such a big deal in the pageant world why on earth didn't you ever jump in?" Good question. Well guys, the truth is that I lack a little bit of what one might call... talent. My uncle specializes in vocal and piano lessons (I think.) Or at least that's what he always told me.
But perhaps he took one look at me as a child at our family get togethers when I would willfully get up and dance and sing for everyone and thought to himself, Please don't ever let this child ask me to be her talent coach.
Whenever my uncle would come back for Christmas it was tradition that he would get on the piano and play Christmas songs while we all sat around and listened. At one point I would always jump up and start to belt out the song, trying my hardest I might add to sound just like Ariel from the Little Mermaid, and my uncle would smile at me sweetly and say bless her heart. I know this to be true because we have it all on video tape.
Bless my heart indeed. I'm still the fang toothed little girl who just doesn't know when to quit.
And now I'm going back to bed because my annual Christmas sickness has returned once again to remind me never to take my health for granted.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.