Merry Christmas! I often lose sight of the significance of this day, but this year I’d like to acknowledge the birthday of a most important person. Congratulations on turning 50, Shane McGowan. I’m so glad (and surprised) you’re still alive!
It was Christmas Eve, babe,
In the drunk tank…
I was awoken at the crack of ten by the arrival of my unexpectedly punctual elder daughter. I was delighted and surprised to see that she’d brought Marcelo and Gonzalo with her; I was not so happy to realize that I had no presents for them.
Fortunately, an emergency excavation of my closet yielded a big picture book for children about the civil rights movement and a rubber Elvis wig.
Marcelo, who is eight, got absorbed in documenting everything in sight.
He took quite a few pictures of Lulu and Yo-Nenny. As I looked through his results I was intrigued to note which of their features most held his interest.
His photographic interest in his father was more general.
After they left I took a wee Christmas nap. I was woken up a second time when Bulwinkle, riding his key-lime-pie-colored motorcycle this time, paid a visit. I don’t wake up easily so he stretched patiently onto the bed next to me until my eyes stopped blinking and I could string words into short sentences.
Our final surprise visitor for the day was our next-door neighbor.
