December 26th

Just back home--the car's still loaded, but the cat's been fed and Liam's conked out on the couch, and the Hanukkah candles are burning down, and our tree looks tacky and wonderful compared to my sister's. It's all good.

Some faces from our Christmas, since I missed Photo Sunday. A slew are missing on the second disk, hidden in the car somewhere--including Maisie's Dad and his girlfriend, who came over for Christmas Eve and were welcomed like old friends by my siblings and their spouses and my parents. Maisie alone was a basket case; we let the wall stand between her two spheres for too long, and she stressed herself into tears before they arrived. But it ended well.
This is Helen--Charlie's mom. Maisie fell in love with her, and wept when she had to say goodbye. Helen speaks in quaint southernisms, and wears poly-blend slacks with a perma-crease up the leg, and she smells like powder, and her willingness to play gin rummy or listen to a recitation of James and the Giant Peach was not exhausted in three solid days of trying.
This is Charlie and his wife, my sister, Bekah. Charlie was adopted from S. Korea as a baby. He's the only man I know that I think I could live with. I've told Bekah so.
Alyssa--first child of my youngest sister. Her father believes in child-directed parenting, and so the adorable creature is on the fast track to Holy Terrordom. Her mother, my sister, wears a permanent frown. You'd frown, too, if you had a permanent 20-lb growth on your hip.
Dad, happy and calm 6 days away from the end of the year that nearly did him in. He grinned the entire weekend. Grinned from morning to night.Kathy and Sean--their house; she's the eldest of my siblings--13 months older than me. No kids, and if things remain that way I know that on her deathbed that will be her life's great sorrow. I simply adore her; it kills me that I can't help.