A Griswold Festivus for the Rest of Us

If you are reading you very likely know my name is Audrey. What you may not know is my brother's name. On here he is mainly referred to as Dirty Thirty. In real life he goes by...wait for it...Russell. As in Audrey and Russell...Griswold.
If you have met my clan this is not far off. One summer my Dad RENTED a minivan, packed us and Grandma and off we went to the GRAND CANYON. I kid you not.
My clan also favors the Costanzas. We are loud, boisterous, beyond obnoxious. Dirty married someone equally crazy and she fits in perfectly. Hubs is by far the most sane but we are quickly driving him bananas. And I hate that for him. Truly.
So my folks roll in for Festivus this weekend. I drag Hubs to Zoolight Friday night. Saturday morn we hit the Chelsea Christmas parade. Very small town. Like here's an entry form and $20 can I put my pickup in the parade? This should be enough for one weekend but when have I ever demonstrated restraint? On Sunday we head to "Trustville" as Mama Costanza calls it. We visit the live nativity of a local church. Pa Costanza actually knows the ring leader and Miss C gets to pet the goats and get up close and personal with the Jake the Donkey and Judy the Camel who is due to give birth any moment.
In my relationship with Hubs I like to have two things. One is street cred. The parade and Judy pretty much blew that. The other is "get out of jail free cards". You know what these are: you earn them letting him go to guy's night out, getting a motorcycle, when he messes up, etc. The lube that keeps a relationship running smoothly. I spent every last one this weekend. This is a shame any time. It is especially detrimental NOW. Two days before we head to Hub's hometown for Christmas. I have no trump card. No free pass. Nada. Zilch. And I am terrified to even imagine the ramifications of this blunder that is all my fault. Merry Christmas indeed.