Wake up, Gia!” What is the meaning of Candy hovering over my bed at the crack of dawn like she just saw Santa Claus fly up the chimney? We are not three years old and I need my beauty sleep. I’m seeing Ricky today and I can’t be all puffy-eyed and grumpy. I’m just glad Christmas morning didn’t fall on a Sunday this year. Pastor Stokes always gets ridiculous with calling for a sunrise service when a holiday falls on Sunday. The choir always sounds a hot mess on these days. Sopranos sounding like tenors—everybody singing in their hot morning-breath voices. Trust. All bad. “I’m not awake, Candy. Come back in a few hours.” “It’s Christmas! Don’t you want to open your gifts?” Well, I’m awake now so I might as well get up. “All right. I’m up.” “You want to make breakfast?” Candy asks. She’s way too gleeful for it to still be dark outside. And she has on antlers. Why is she wearing antlers? That is just unnecessary and I’m almost sure it’s against some rule somewhere.
