It's Almost Halloween! Are You Ready For Christmas?

With Halloween nearly two weeks away, the official beginning of the Holiday season is well underway for The Beast.

It's during these fleeting days that she begins writing the Christmas newsletter and planning the menu for Christmas dinner and assorted family gatherings. Although I've never asked, I assume she plans Thanksgiving dinner in early April.

Every December, on the weekend prior to the big day, The Beast's side of the family has a lively get together which, ultimately, results in a lot of drunken staggering. It is not uncommon, in fact, for the party to appear in a sentence like this: "I'm excited to go stagger around at the Riley Christmas party this weekend..."

Now that I have moved far away from western Washington, I see these family members exactly once per year. A full day spent with inebriated strangers can fall one of two ways: Really terrible or fairly entertaining. It has been, with few exceptions, the latter.

There is one Riley Christmas party that stands out above the others, however.

I refer to this specific occasion as "The Condom Piñata Incident."

During my sophomore year of college, The Beast's siblings (and assorted offspring) decided to give that year's gathering a Mexican theme, complete with Mexican food, post-meal festivities and a crippled civil service infrastructure.

This theme was emphasized in three primary ways: handmade salsa, acres of Corona and a piñata.

We spent the entire afternoon singing along to "Feliz Navidad" (well, we sang along to the chorus, at least) and putting guacamole on everything.

To conclude the day, we set our sites on the ornately decorated piñata.

While the menu for this party had been superbly planned, the filling of the piñata had been neglected until the last minute.

The day before the party, in a last-ditch effort to load this paper mache donkey with prizes, my aunt had gone into the backroom of the doctor's office where she worked and filled the convivial burro with whatever she could find.

Fast forward to the night of our party.

The piñata was finally broken by its seventh attacker (Hal) and its contents showered the surrounding area.

As we each rushed in to collect our share of the loot, some specific items became quickly identifiable.

I first came across a pack of antacid, a lone stick of gum, then some dental floss. Next I found a packet of Advil, some laxatives, a toothbrush, a super ball, Bengay, Band-Aids, and a friendship bracelet.

And, finally, a large pile of condoms.

None of the assorted cousins rummaging through these goods were naive, but we were, nonetheless, a bit surprised. In retrospect, perhaps my aunt felt the need to emphasize the positive aspects of contraception since over half of us now lived away from home. Or maybe she just needed something to fill the top third of a paper mache donkey.

Despite the strange prizes we all collected, I will admit that I'm glad it was her that went around the office commandeering office supplies and not my dad.

If he had been given the same task, we would have been gleefully diving for staplers, promotional frisbees, obsolete printer cartridges and "If it's not Boeing, I'm not going!" bumper stickers.

As The Beast's nagging questions about contributions to Christmas newsletters and travel plans begin pouring in, my memories of two-pound burritos and free prophylactics stir anew.

As luck would have it, I'll be making a return appearance at the Riley gathering this year. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, the Mexican theme will be revived and my uncle the jeweler will be the one in charge of filling this year's donkey.

I hope he procrastinates.