Christmastime: Parties, Presents, Illness

A big hello to everyone out there in Blogland from the homestead, where cookies are in the oven, presents are under the tree, and visions of sugarplums dance in our heads, much as the microbes dance and cavort in my assorted innards. Stayed home from work sick today, and ironically got more work done than if I had gone in. I could feel it coming yesterday, and so left a plan on my desk just in case. Came in handy.

The biggest news lately is that we have attended two - TWO! - holiday parties, one at the house of Connor, a friend of T' from daycare, and another at the home of Brad and Betsy, who together form one third of Milk of Amnesia, Berkshire County's undefeated team trivia juggernaut, as well as roughly half of our social circle. Another three-sixths of Milk of Amnesia was in attendance at Brad and Betsy's (myself, Ronadh, and Janneke), despite which not a single soul asked any of us for autographs. And there were over 40 people in attendance - mostly adults, but a lot of kids, too. It was a quinTential Christmas party: caroling practice around the piano (which was crowned with the truly frightening trophy from Team Trivia), cookies and mulled wine, sweaters and turtlenecks, piles of overcoats on stair railings and beds, children in a separate orbit in a separate room, having their own brand of fun...It was a huge hit. As was the party at Connor's, which I had thought was going to be his birthday party. I was very pleasantly surprised to learn, just before we went, that it was to be their annual Christmas party. I was kind of wondering why it was necessary to send the whole family to a four-year-old's birthday party. And why it was taking place in the evening on a Sunday. And why we were bringing wine. Suddenly it all made sense.

In case you're curious, here's a photo of the 2007 Milk of Amnesia squad, out to dinner to collect our prize and celebrate our victory:



Janneke was not in the photo, as our friend Rob was the sixth man this year. But since Rob is in Michigan now, Janneke will get a shirt made up and participate in his stead. We were the only team with uniforms. (Mark and Ronadh, lamely (though understandably), didn't wear theirs to the celebration at Spice, Pittsfield's swankiest eatery.) And we're the only team to win the whole shootin' match for the past two years. And in April, it'll be 3 in a row. Dynasty, people. Dynasty.

But back to the Christmas parties - here's some pics:



T in her Christmas party outfit, complete with poodle purse. In the purse were a little green troll, googly puppet eyes, and a comb. Plus, of course, the ever-present switchblade. She's definitely her mother's daughter.



Here's the whole pile of little 'uns, lined up to watch "The Polar Express" while the adults party hearty two rooms (and thirty years) away.



Q and the hosts' children. I include it here, despite its obvious flaws, because it's a great example of what I call Q's "liquid face", when he's relaxed and his eyes and eyebrows and everything just melt together and cause everybody to swoon. Strangely, as you'll have seen, this face also causes the eyes of everyone around him to glow like the fires of Hell.



T, after one mulled wine too many. It was a blessing, in a way, when she passed out: At least the cussing subsided.

Here's what happens when a giant box of presents arrives from Auntie Stephanie and Uncle Jess. Note the traditional post-present-placement voguing and break-dancing:



Here endeth the narration of the recent Christmas cheer. If I don't talk to you, have a fantastic Christmas season. One quick anecdote before I go: Q, last Sunday, had a riding lesson, and afterward we went straight to Lessons and Carols, the big show put on at the Williams chapel, where Brad, our host the other night, leads the choir in song, and there are some readings and a sermon by our friend Rick, who's the college chaplain, and a big sing-along with all assembled. Q and I sat in the back, and came in just as one piece was ending. We sang one song (Angels We Have Heard on High, I think), and then hit a long stretch of choir piece, followed by reading from the Book of Somebody, followed by the sermon. It was a pretty good one, based on the metaphor of the barn from "Charlotte's Web". Q, though, who had just spent an hour of close concentration on horseback, was in no mood to sit quietly, and fidgeted and sighed like mad. Finally, he leaned over and whispered, "Papi, si no creemos en esto, por que estamos aqui?" (Dad, if we don't believe in this, why are we here?) "Porque la musica es linda, y la celebracion es linda, y es lindo ver a toda esta gente junta, celebrando." (Because the music is nice, and the celebration is nice, and it's nice to see all these people together, celebrating.)

But I couldn't come up with a better reason than that to make him sit through any more lengthy fidgets. So ten minutes later, we were at home, watching football.

Amen.