Greeks.

That's right my sweet Emma, ask Yia Yia.

Ahhhh my mom, Yia Yia to the kids, the teacher of how to make the world's best Baklava.  Alan thanks you.  For some reason I only make it at Christmas time.  I also only make my ginger snaps this time of year.  That's probably a good thing because like Lays, no one can eat just one. My ever expanding ass doesn't need any more help.  The older I get the harder it is to drop (the weight).  Well, things are dropping but that's a different story.  An unflattering one. 

Back to the baklava.  It's time consuming, it's a pain in the ass, but it is so totally worth it.  You can freeze it for months and it'll still taste just as good when it thaws.  It keeps in the fridge for what seems like forever...Alan has eaten it after a questionable amount of time and it was awesome - so he said.     I guess baklava is a tradition for me at Christmas time.  My dad used to take me to all the magnificent Christmas parties the Greeks of the North Shore would throw and wow would I love to go to one as an adult.  They sure can party.  And eat.  And drink.  Hmmm, this may explain some of me.  Seriously, their sha-bangs are the BEST!  Maybe I can find some Greeks in Waynesboro?  

When I think of fond memories from my childhood 9 times out of 10 they involve my dad.  At my cousin's wedding this past April, I overheard my mom say to my Aunt "she's just like her father".  That was music to my ears.  My dad was the coolest person I have ever known.  The sarcasm and wit that is me all came from him.  The need to be the center of attention?  All him.  The cooking skill came from both my parents.  My passion and creativity?  Well I'll blame the Greeks for that one too.  Greeks are the most passionate people ever.  My parent's divorced when I was 6.  My dad died when I was 19.  On his key chain we found his wedding band from their marriage.

How's that for love? Why did I never notice it before?  

Rest in Peace, dad.  I wish you were here to enjoy Jacob, Emma and Ellie.  You could've taught them so much.  Even how to cuss in Greek which, by the way, thanks for teaching me - that tends to come in handy when I want to cuss at someone but can't in English.  You know, when someone you love passes it is so easy to forget their faults, short comings and bad choices and only remember the good that they were.  He had a few articles written in the paper about him after he died.  His wake had to be extended a few hours because of the amount of people that came to see him.  My brother, mom and I stood there for hours and hours accepting people's condolences.  Sometimes I even found myself trying to comfort others. A pillar of strength at 19. 

I wish I'd have waited for you to answer the phone that night, not become impatient and hung up because I would see you the next day.  I never did see you again.  OK.  Stop the tears, there is a silver lining in that.  My kids and people who I love will never not know I love them.  I express it every chance I get because you never know if you'll get another.  So yes, my passion for life definitely comes from my dad, not just because of the way he lived, but also because of the way he died.  No warning. 

 I guess the holidays erupt emotion.