The Christmas Post


I hope you all had a merry Christmas, or at least a tolerable one. No, I really do. Except for those of you who are real jackasses. You know who you are. I hope your Christmas sucked.

Me? I was away from internet access for a few days. I, my lovely wife Isa, and my lovely daughter, the continuous tornado in baby form known as V.V., drove up to a cabin by the river on the lower stretches of Mount Hood. Not TV. No internet access. Spotty cell phone reception, I turned mine off. I spent the long weekend chasing V.V. around, reading, and playing games Mostly chasing V.V.

Have you noticed that performing the same stressful activities away that you do at home is not inherently relaxing? Still, the trip was enjoyable despite the wear and tear and the nagging suspicion that I probably shouldn’t have eaten so much.

Speaking of games, imagine five people, the youngest of whom – me, – is 45, trying to decipher the rules to “Illuminati. I could only help so much as most of my time in between turns was spent, you guessed it, chasing V.V.

Now, other than a to-be-scheduled trip to the bookstore to spend gift certificates, it is time for me to get back to work. As has been observed many times before, these books won’t write themselves.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.