I think for a lot of people, myself included, Christmases start to blend into one another and become one big fat candy cane and irredecent ribbon memory.
Of course, there stands out a few memorable ones. Like the year you got the doll you'd been wishing and praying and dreaming about- the one your parents said was more than likely too expensive for the family to afford that year. Or the year you snuck a little too much Baileys into your hot cocoa and really had a good time. Or the year Dagmar came and sent the whole house back about 60 years.
Christmas 2011 will forever be remembered as the year of no power.
For starters, I packed my camera bag with two (2!) dead batteries and was able to take about 3 pictures before being without a foto apparat (that's the Norwegian word for camera- photo apparatus!) for all of Christmas eve, day, and boxing day. Good planning, Siri! And then Dagmar arrived. She was the strongest storm to hit Norway in the past 30 years, leaving hundreds of thousands of west coast homes without power, tall-masted ships tossed onto dry land, and every tenth tree ripped up from it's roots. Needless to say, she left my in-laws house with a thick coating of salt and no power for much of Christmas day and boxing day. But instead of crying, "why me?! why on Christmas?!", we just stripped down to the basics. Our morning (and midmorning, and afternoon, and evening) coffee was cooked on the storm kitchen, our dinner baked in the fireplace, Lasse bathed on the kitchen floor by candle light, and our regular evening tv- viewing replaced with Glenfidich and old fashioned coversation.
And it was nice. It was cozy. It was the way Christmas should be.