Christmas Eve

Most of those who make collections of verse or epigram are like men eating cherries or oysters: they choose out the best at first, and end by eating all.
-- Sébastien-Roch Nicolas de Chamfort

Sunday, December 24, 2000
One year ago: Christmas Eve
Two years ago: Christmas Eve

The first of this big batch o' entries begins back here.

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I walked out into the living room in the middle of the night, to check on Jack. He was sleeping sitting up on my couch, with a pillow behind his head and another under his chin. I let him sleep until eight or so.

We spent a quiet morning, eating some cereal for breakfast (red and green rice krispies!). Then Jack and H---- hit the road, after we repacked the truck with all of the gifts and gear Jack would be taking to his family. I set to work wrapping all the books I bought for my nephews.

But the phone rang about an hour after Jack and H---- left. Jack had lost his wallet! Was it in my apartment? I couldn't find it. It wasn't in my car, either. How aggravating for him! And that meant that the last few gifts he was planning to buy on the way down there wouldn't be bought. Maybe it got lost at the grocery store last night?

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I went over to my sister's house again, to go to mass with her and my nephews. This year the boys had opted out of being in the Nativity Play, but they still wanted to see it. Of course the church was packed to capacity. The homily was blessedly brief, with no Phil Donahue style interviewing of the children. We had our traditional oyster stew supper, but the boys preferred pork and beans.

I gave my younger nephew B---- The Kid's Book of Questions, and other books on science. He was most taken with a book on how to build robots and spaceships out of junk. He immediately started thinking about which project he would like to do first.

J---- was very pleased with an old book of Zane Grey baseball stories, called The Redheaded Outfield. I knew his socially concious father would be happy about a book about social action for kids.

I got a nice wool hat, and a pair of socks. My sister also gave me a bagel cutter ("The bagel biter," cried B----) which she confessed she'd picked up at the thrift store. Fine by me! I can take it to the office, where we have bagels fairly often.

Jack sent me email from his folks' house, around eight o'clock. Poor guy! He still feels really bad. I know how awful it is when your ribs ache from coughing, and you can't sleep. I hope he's better soon.

I like this Christmas eve tradition of going to my sister's house! One of these years I'd like to spend Christmas with Jack, but I'm glad he was able to stop by on the way to his folks. If I weren't going to dance camp, I'd go with him.