I’m sitting in nowhere-ville, PA (Bucks County, actually), with my boyfriend and his family, enjoying a picturesque Christmas scene: a hearty fire 3 feet to my right, a gravity-defying Christmas tree with too many ornaments to count and lights that blink to Kanye West’s “Golddigger” at my left (I’m making up one of those descriptions. Maybe.), with the white noise of NBC’s Christmas Eve evening news broadcast, something saccharine about a family that creates its own costumes for annual holiday snaps, and the NORAD Santa tracking.
The BF’s parents, both ex-news anchors and reporters in Dallas and the Southeast, muse about the “Christmas Eve shift” in the newsroom, and how the shittiest holiday stories we see every year always seem to make it to air, on a sweet baby-Jesus-laced slow pitch. As a sometime-journalist and critic of all things in black, white, and technicolor, I can’t decide how I fare on this topic–to pity the news producers and the less-than-hard hitting reporting on the eve of the birth of Jesus Christ, or to admonish them for “making” news instead of “finding” it. I feel that nights like Christmas eve are made for interns.
Tomorrow I will be live-blogging my first Christmas away from my warm Midwestern confines–it seems like the best way to capture such a moment, agreed? 🙂 You decide whether or not I’m joking.