Serbian Christmas

My father has twin half-sisters, 11yrs his junior. The twins, as we usually refer to them, are insane. Not clinically, just fun and funny to be around. They smoke, they drink, one is a lesbian and the other married a fossil for his money (which she freely admits). In fairness to the gold-digger, she does take care of him, and believe me, he needs a lot of care. Only your mother will change your diaper without demanding some sort of compensation.
Well, tonight we're going to the rich twin's mansion for Serbian Christmas Eve. It's the first time we've been invited, so despite crappy weather, we're going to venture out. A little back story: My father's parents got divorced when he was, I don't 5, and his father remarried a younger woman of Serbian descent. They had, if I recall correctly, a stillborn son and then the twins. My father was raised primarily by his maternal grandparents down on the farm, since his mother was busy building her retail empire. Eventually she remarried too, to a man that I grew up believing was my 'real', as in biological, grandfather. That is, until I was twelve and I finally met my father's father. In my kid mind it somehow made sense that we were all related because Grandpa's last name was my great-grandfather's first name and my father's middle name. Instead, Seinfeldian logic aside, it was just a big coincidence. Still, my love for him never really changed, even after I learned the truth because Grandpa was the greatest man I've ever known. Anyway, we only see the twins at weddings and showers. They love my dad, but he's so stand-offish, a true emotional cripple, that he's never encouraged much cross family interaction. In fact, he isn't going this evening. Only the twins will miss him. The rest of us...
It seems as if this holiday season just won't end. I want to crawl into my winter cocoon and read the stack of books I've got staring at me accusingly.