christmas eve 2022 wigilia

 

My sister-in-law decided I needed these socks to make it official.

To my Polish in-laws, the big celebration of the season isn't Christmas Day, but Christmas Eve, Wigilia, the Christmas Vigil. We don't eat meat that day (because on that day, the animals spoke, and you don't eat entities with whom you might be in conversation), so the meal is full of fish, cheese, and other non-meat comestibles -- and that means my soon-to-be-niece-in-law, who's pescatarian, can eat without suspicion or concern (we made sure to have Goldfish Crackers, but drew the line at Swedish Fish).

This is the first one without my mother-in-law, who was undoubtedly La Grande Dame (or whatever the Polish equivalent is) of the celebrations. It fell to The Excellent Wife (TEW) and me to host (who am I kidding? She did virtually all of the work; I was merely scullery and sous-chef). 

At dinner:

After dinner, there's the singing of Christmas carols, some in English, and some in Polish. We've got a couple of books of kolendy, Polish Christmas carols. I can read music, and can hammer through the Polish pronunciation well enough to sing along (the Excellent Mother-In-Law never really believed I didn't know the words, and was SURE I knew what I was singing, despite my protestations of ignorance). And then the opening of presents, glorious chaos.

It's both a very late night for me (who's usually in bed by 9) and over too soon. TEW and I spent the late night doing the dishes and making sure there wouldn't be general rot in the kitchen by morning; this morning I've dispatched the good silver to its storage, and we're packing up the Christmas china.

We've done our presents, and we're planning a quiet day, with another good dinner courtesy of The Fresh Market or Whole Foods or somebody (sheesh, doncha think TEW did ENOUGH cooking yesterday?), and then to a few loads of laundry and putting the house back together. Domestic life is good. One doesn't need drama and excitement all the time.

the real mccoy

Is it an earthquake or simply a shock?
Is it the good turtle soup or merely the mock?
Is it a cocktail, this feeling of joy?
Or is what I feel the real McCoy?

Is it for all time or simply a lark?
Is it Granada i see or only Asbury Park?
Is it a fancy not worth thinking of?
Or is it at long last love?

(Cole Porter, At Long Last Love) 

I had this song in my head the whole ride today.

The Excellent Wife (TEW) and I have been under siege this week; we've been having the condo painted by contractors with effective technique, and apparent fond feelings for us, but with inefficient scheduling (I would have no problem recommending the quality of their work, and the price is reasonable, but plan for at least one late night or an extra day if you hire them). Laura OLPH had scheduled a ride for today, and I had built up my hopes to do it, and when the painters were running late, my mood got exceptionally sour. TEW, as she often does, managed to mitigate my crankiness and disappointment... but then, the painters were out by about 8pm last night, the clouds parted, birdsong was in the air, and I happily registered for Laura's promised 40-45 miles with some hills.

(I also got a particularly graceless picture of Heddy B; I will spare us both by not posting it.)

Laura decided on her usual route to Sergeantsville, over roads that we've done frequently enough that even I, with my hopeless sense of direction on a bike, more-or-less knew the way when we got to the usual turns. And for this early in the season, all of us seemed to be strong on the climbs.

I loved this ride. This was the real McCoy.

We greeted the girls in Mt Airy:

 

We stopped at the bagel place in Seargentsville instead of the general store. While there, a larger group from the Central Bucks club came in.

After the break, it seemed to get colder (I thought it might be a punishment from the gods of tardiness for taking too long on the break), but then the sun came out again.

About three or four miles from the end, I had a minor bonk; I completed the ride, but not at the pace I had been able to maintain earlier. I'm out of practice with knowing how to eat and to maintain weight; I need more riding to get that down (well, DUH!).

With all the cold, and occasional real-life interferences getting in the way of riding, at long last, I was glad to be able to do this one.

Ride page.

more retirement

This post turned out longer than I thought it would. I was going to type in some kind of permission to skip it (HAH! As if you needed that!), but I think I'd like any feedback you can provide, so I'd be grateful if you read through it. 

Are bitmoji's still a thing?

Today, December 1, is the first day I'm actually jobless in retirement (I stopped working on November 18, and the remainder of the month was paid leave: mostly various days that had to be taken or I would lose them, and yesterday as a vacation day, because some obscure Rutgers or UBHC rule forbids taking any of those types of leave as your last day of work). I haven't been sleeping well. The Excellent Wife (TEW) and I are both persuaded that the insomnia has something to do with the retirement process, but I have not been kept awake by wrenching, physically-painful anxiety as I have in the past; I just wake up, and it's clear I'm not going back to sleep for a while. So, rather than disturb the slumbers of TEW, I get up and do stuff on the computer, or read, or something. I can usually get back to sleep after an hour, or maybe 90 minutes.

The one thing I thought was going to be a major source of anxiety has not proven so (although I'm not completely free from concern about it). I expect a paycheck for two more days... and then I'm dependent on my savings, my retirement plan (also mostly savings, although I have two tiny pensions from the old world), and Social Security. I have the promise from Social Security that yes, the money will be coming... but not until the second Tuesday in January (there's a wonderfully Byzantine rule about when the payments from Social Security come to you, having to do with the date during the month on which you were born). But since it hasn't come yet, there's the nagging fear that it's not going to. (I've just now checked, and the two pension payments, due today, are, indeed, in the appropriate account. They appear with reassuring regularity.)

Three other things are floating around in the retirement-anxiety ether. The first is fear of the onset of dementia. When my father died almost a decade ago, my mother gave up all the friends and connections she had in Asheville (to where they had moved after my father's retirement, and which she loved), and moved into a senior-living home in Buffalo, to be near my sister (I was completely left out of these discussions, as I had been on a number of other family decisions, but that is a rant for another, also undoubtedly long and verbose, post). Although mother engaged in a few of the activities offered by the facility, as time went on, the offerings diminished, and my mother did not seek others (or even attend the few that were available). It's clear to me that she gave up on her life and was (and is) waiting to die. She has asked several times, "Why am I still alive?" Neither of her parents, nor her older sister, lived to anything like the age she is now.

Her memory has gone. She suffers from dementia. I'm convinced it's because she disconnected herself from life... and that has become a lesson to me: it is my intention to keep engaged, to meet new people and remain connected to current friends, to learn new things. There is good research showing that,, along with a physically healthy lifestyle (including nutrition and activity), engagement and intellectual challenge are protective factors against dementia. Well, I'm gonna do my best.

Which brings me to the second anxiety-related issue. As part of keeping engaged, I decided to look for a job at a bike shop, and I appear to have an opportunity at Sourland Cycles. I had hoped to be a mechanic, but, while it's true I've built my bikes from parts, and I'm a good meatball mechanic to get you home should something untoward happen on a ride, my skills are not at the point where I can do that at this store. It's been humbling to meditate on this over the past several days: after 36 years in the substance-abuse field, including obtaining a masters degree and a license; after experience in treatment, training, and prevention in that field; after having the respect of coworkers and colleagues... I'm starting off at the bottom of a new field again. I'm not an authority; I'm a tyro.

The third thought that intrudes: I'm not working now. I'm living off a "handout", Social Security (although I paid into the system for over four decades -- I worked for seven years in the insurance industry prior to the career change to substance abuse) and my savings. Am I a drain on society? Am I still contributing to the greater good? I've been rushing to keep promises I made to address things after I retire, whether commitments to friends, or "honey do" chores at home (there are painting supplies in the other room for a bathroom I'll probably address later today). Who am I? Who are my people? Am I doing enough for them that they aren't going to cast me out?

So there we are. I'm not going to be able to button this post up with a neat ending (as I think I like to do), because I'm still in the middle of these thoughts. There will be more to come, I'm sure.

tempus fugit

The birthday card from my sister reads:

... but I think what she's really asking is how can she be that age, minus the difference in our ages.

The excellent hand-stamped card is made by my brother-in-law. I think he ought to sell them.

anniversary celebration in the time of covid 19

So when your twenty-third wedding anniversary comes around during the enforced isolation and social distancing of COVID-19, what do you do?

Well, since you can't go out to dinner anywhere, you review your options for getting good take-out. It turns out you can't get dinner at The Blue Point Grill, since it's closed until further notice, as is the Stage Left Restaurant, so you call up your next favorite, the Trattoria Procaccini. They're open for take out, and when you try to make an order on the Tuesday for the following Friday, they get all flustered and assure you that you won't have any problem placing the order on Friday.

So on Friday, you're extra hungry early, and you call up and place the order and drive to Princeton to pick it up. You emerge from the car with a bandanna wrapped around your face as a mask, and with plastic gloves on, and endure the slightly worried looks of the cooking staff in the otherwise-abandoned front-of-house.

You pack both bags into the car (there are only two orders; it took two bags?), you hustle home to find The Excellent Wife (TEW) has completely cleared the kitchen table, and put out good china and silver and a candle (you can't use the dining room because that's been turned into your office-away-from-the-office because you're working from home these days). You eat wonderful food, and rejoice in one another's company, and count your blessings, such as they are. (You also complain about your relatives and make prediction about the dire fates sure to befall them; gossip about friends; count the days until retirement; make secret plans together that neither of you will tell anyone else.)

Then you take the anniversary picture yourself (that's usually done by a waiter at the place you've gone to dinner) with your selfie camera, and decide that the picture is better done by somebody else.

better

The worst of the fog that was the meat of my last post is passing, at least for now.

The two main reasons I can give for this are these: the support of The Excellent Wife (TEW), and an email chain, started by Laura OLPH, involving a number of my bike-y friends. Thanks to you all.I can't say how much you mean to me.

I've been spending too much time following the news, reading horror stories about how the COVID-19 virus has afflicted those who are suffering the worst. In my imagination, I'm sure to be a victim, because I catch every respiratory ailment that comes close. I've got a history of strep throat and bronchitis, and missed most of kindergarten battling pneumonia. My parents were afraid I might die at the time. One of the reasons I support science, even when I don't really understand it, is that I'm sure it saved my life then, by means of antibiotics (which had been in general use for only about 20 years at the time).

Too much reading is not helping, so I'm planning to reduce my news dependence. I've downloaded a couple of books, and I'll plan to paraffin my chain today. (Thank might make another blog post. Watch this space.)

Another thing that's not helping is Facebook. I saw postings on Facebook about a "minister" who had been a COVID-denier who had subsequently died from the disease. My initial reaction was to gloat. I don't want to be that person, and I think Facebook promotes that. The Facebook algorithms promote the echo-chamber culture effect, giving me more and more of what I already know and agree with, and less of anything else. It separates me even further from viewpoints with which I might disagree. So it's easier to see people who hold those viewpoints as aliens. I don't think that's useful; I don't think it's going to get us what we want. We are separated enough. I think that's helping to feed my isolation, and I need less isolation right now.

TEW suggested knitting again, and I might see what yarn we've got, to make another of those neck gaiters like the too-colorful one I ride with. I might not; knitting doesn't engage me as much as other activities with tools do.

I also have to point out that the use of ZOOM has been an unexpected blessing. Both my WW group and my work team are using ZOOM for meetings. The WW group has been a great support, and the work one too, although less so. I think part of the reason the work online meeting is less of a support is that almost none of my coworkers turn on their cameras - I suspect they don't want to show off the torn t-shirts and pajama tops they are wearing when working from home. (My director and I turn our cameras on. I may even wear a tie next time, just because why the hell not?)

My hands are a wreck from so much handwashing. They feel sunburned all the time, and the skin and the knuckles (especially) is red and rough. I never use grooming products, but I've tried Vaseline on 'em, which didn't seem effective. This morning, I tried some to TEW's hand cream. I'm not sure htat's better.

I'm keeping up with exercise (I do something every day) and I haven't been eating all the junk in the house (not that we keep much...). Since we're minimizing our store trips in an effort to minimize exposure to infection, I'm always afraid that we're going to run out of stuff, so I may not be eating enough. I've been tired all the time, and cold in the house (at 68F). We've tried online order-and-pickup from the grocery, which was disappointing: not all the items were included, but we didn't know that until I got the bags back in the house (that may be adding to my fear of running out).

Oh, and that beard I started? Because I'm not going to be able to get a haircut, and I want an excuse for looking sloppy and unkempt? It fell victim to the Norelco. TEW said she likes me better clean-shaven. I didn't know!

barely holding on

I had hoped to continue going into the office, but it was made clear that That.Was.Not.To.Happen, so I packed up my work computer on Monday, and I'm working from home. Since I don't have to knot up a tie or do the commute, you'd think I'd have no problem getting logged in on time, but both days I've barely gotten to computer fired up by start time.

While we've got food in the house, it's not the usual stuff I eat during the day, and I was hungry all day yesterday. Today The Excellent Wife (TEW) got out shopping and got some more stuff. Now I'm trying to minimize consumption and make it last, because who knows when we'll get out again? I'm an ace away from 65 years old, which puts me in a high-risk group for the COVID-19 illness. So to reduce my risk, we've decided I should stay away from stores. At the same time, it's all I can do to keep from eating all of the bars and junk food in the house.

For years, I've made a practice of looking at my retirement plans daily. There have been ups and downs, but it's been scary to see my investments drop. Even in my fairly conservative portfolio, I'm down about 17%, and have lost the equivalent of about two years' salary in the past month. Yeah, it will probably come back, and I'm certainly not going to move my money now, but it's no fun. I'm hoping to retire sooner rather than later, and this is just sucking the wind out of me.

I saw an article about the Lt. Governor of Texas telling us all to get back to work. I'd love to. But what if I were responsible for someone getting the virus and subsequently dying? I'm more afraid of that than of dying myself.

So here's a silly thing that takes up far too much emotional space: I probably won't be able to get a haircut. Every now and then, we go somewhere where old hippies gather, and I see some man of a certain age who looks like he hasn't bothered to clean himself up and make himself presentable since, say, the second Bush administration. It makes my skin crawl, and I often get a haircut a few days later. I won't be able to do that. I've started a beard to give some excuse to my disheveled, unkempt appearance. But if the barber were available (and safe) tomorrow, I'd shave it all off again. (I got a Wahl trimmer kit for a present a gazillion years ago; if it gets really bad, I'll just give myself a whole-head buzzcut. TEW will be appalled.)

One of my coworkers, who's seen me at my worst ( two or three years ago, when I was going through one of my bad anxieties, pretty much everybody stayed away; we joke about it now, but I was closer to suicide the than I ever want to get), tells me I need to list what I'm grateful for. He's right. So here are a few:

• I'm working and getting paid. Many are not.
• I have the support of TEW. 
• I have the (perhaps more distant) support of a few friends, whom I haven't driven off.
• I'm far away from my family, and I don't have to put up with them. (Yes, I'm grateful for the distance from my family.)
• I'm still watching my diet and doing my daily exercises. (Yes. I do some kind of physical workout every day. When I can't ride, I use a rowing machine, or weights and bodyweight exercises. And I've done it every day for months; I'm still continuing.)
• All five computers, both tablets, and both cell phones are working, as is the home network and the internet.
• .We have food, clothing, a warm house, transportation, no debt.

Here's hoping you stay healthy. In every way

together

Since my last post, I've re-thought the flippant attitude I had about social distancing and self-isolating as a means of containing COVID-19 and the virus that causes it. I supported the Princeton Freewheeler decision to cancel rides, and, while I may ride and may invite others to come along, I don't know yet what I'll do about stops or toilet breaks.

Both my mother and The Excellent Mother-In-Law are at risk from COVID-19. I'm in the age group with a higher fatality risk, but, despite my recurring bronchitis and strep throat, somehow I believe I'll be one who gets a mild case and recovers. (A "mild case", as I understand it, means one for which you don't have to be hospitalized. I can be seriously ill, therefore, and still have a mild case.)

John Green and his brother Hank (both published authors) have this Youtube channel, Vlogbrothers, that I catch regularly. I find it almost always speaks to me, and this one made me teary. It's about what humans do together, and that's a soft spot of mine. It's part of why I have no patience with isolationists and preppers; we're ALL part of it... not just the people I know, the people who look like me, the people who speak a language I understand.

At about 2:10 in the video is a graph that I've seen over and over, about how the effect of social distancing and self-isolation will reduce the strain on the healthcare system. Beneath both bell curves is an area representing the number of people who get the disease. Now, I know enough math to know that the area under those curves is more or less the same. Even WITH all these precautions, most of us (including me) will probably be infected. But perhaps we will not strain our resources past the breaking point if we manage this adequately.

I don't think we're all going to die (although some of us will). I think we will find a way to return to more-or-less normal. But now it's time to come together... even if that means staying separate. Let us seek other ways to reach out, different from the ones we are used to. Let us be flexible and imaginative. Let's ignore those who would divide us further. Find the ways to get the support you need. Find ways to stay connected. Perhaps there will even be ways to make new connections.

carless

Driving home from work on Wednesday night, I hit a deer; it came bounding from the left and took out the grill and right quarter panel or the black Prius. I haven't been back to that section of Route 27 between North Brunswick and Franklin to see if there's a venison feast for the flies and vultures... I'm rather hoping that the damn thing lives six more weeks in agony and is finally ritually disassembled by a pack of feral canines.

I've got well over $10,000 worth of damage, and the estimate says I might get it back around mid-December. I was initially afraid that the insurance company would declare it a total loss, but even with almost 6,000 miles on it, Kelley Blue Book lists it at about $18,000 actual cash value. I didn't initially see how bad it was, because I drove it home in the dark, but in the cold light of Thanksgiving morning, it was clear that the whole front of the car had damage. We limped it over to Dennis and Don's, our reliable body shop. The Excellent Wife (TEW) has had work done there before, and assures me that I won't notice a difference when I get it back. Hrmph. I'll know it's different.

Because of the holiday weekend, getting a rental took a bit of doing; I initially had a choice of an expensive pickup or a more expensive SUV, but the rental agent fellow took pity on me, and by midday Saturday had me in a Ford Focus that's only a few bucks a day more than the insuror is offering for rental reimbursement.

So while we got to the in-laws for Thanksgiving dinner, I was mostly stuck idle until today, when I got out for a few chores in the Focus. I hate it because it's not my car, it's different, and it's costing me money. It took a while to figure out how to turn the headlights on, and the radio doesn't shut off when you shut off the engine and remove the key. The gas cap is on the wrong side. The parking brake is on a lever rather than a pedal.

No, you don't get any damn pictures. I don't want to remember my Prius looking like that.

I just want it back. 

not flu; bronchitis

So I've been ill now for over two weeks. Finally went to the doctor on Thursday, and found out it's bronchitis. That means it's viral, not bacterial, and THAT means antibiotics are gonna be ineffective (which is probably a good thing; back in the 90's I had a doc that probably overprescribed me Cipro and amoxicillin; I'm likely a walking nursery for medication-resistant bugs, even as we speak).

I've been ensconced in my front-room chair for days, doing stupid internet and dozing, alternating with sleeping in bed. The Excellent Wife (TEW) and I went out to do three chores yesterday, and the effort was so exhausting that I needed a nap. And then I needed another one. And then I slept 10 hours last night. (TEW is also recovering from bronchitis, but she's in better shape than I. Oh, to be young again, as she!)

I'm a little stir-crazy today, so I'll probably go out for an errand just to have something to do. But I know I'm not all better. I'm a little worried about being able to work a full day tomorrow.

Early reports are for rain next Saturday, and it's a god thing; I'd go out for a ride if there was one, and I'll probably still need the rest.

Here's hoping you're healthier than I.

new domestic job title

The Excellent Wife (TEW) had a cleaning person in for the first time yesterday. The woman gets a premium hourly rate, but TEW is happy enough with her work that plans are being med for another visit in a fortnight.

Coincident with this, I seem to have developed a new duty as Messer-Up in Chief and Director of Disarray.

old guys helpin' me put my brains back in

I've been working too hard, and taking it too personally, and generally not doing well with work stuff. After the weekend on call (including 86 hours straight with a cell phone, during which I couldn't be more than thirty minutes away from my computer), I took today off. The initial plan, suggested by The Excellent Wife (TEW), was to go do the Wednesday ride with The Old Guys. I had a soul-crushing depression (even though I taught my bike class last night, which is usually good for my mood), and almost didn't go, but TEW pointed out that I always feel better when I'm around these guys, and she's right.

When I used to ride with them regularly on Wednesdays, I'd add miles with Erich W by parking at Etra Park in Hightstown and riding to the start in Allentown from there. I did that today, so my route shows almost 60 miles, even though the guys rode about 40. I thought about Erich on the way down. I miss him.

Dennis W led, whom I've not seen on a ride in a long time after some health problems. It was good to see him, and the rest of the guys I knew... and, of course, since it's a group that continues to go out, there were guys I hadn't met, some of whom I met today.

Above, I like that one of Don. Below, Al's got a recumbent now.

Above: I got Howie to stop complaining and smile long enough to get this picture.

Off we went, on the usual roads (don't worry; I can get lost anyway). After a while, I felt the gloom start to lift. Mike offered to sweep, a task I usually take, saying that I needed a day to cut loose, and he was right. Thanks, Mike.

We stopped at the Pemberton Wawa, where this young guy let me bend his ear about bikes for a few.

He was kinder than I deserve.

We got to talking about the bike class I teach at the New Brunswick Bike Exchange (one guy asked when I was going to offer it again, which was gratifying!). The class is listed as the Second Annual, which it turned out to be, but that wasn't my intention. I could offer it again, especially if there's some interest in people volunteering at the exchange afterwards.

We also talked about my glasses with the prescription inserts. Serfas isn't making them anymore, citing too much cheap competition, but I found a few on Amazon: High-Balance Peloton, High-Balance Tour, High Balance Tri (prices have gone up since I looked at 'em a few months ago!). The key, though, was the getting the Rx inserts filled. Local opticians didn't want to do such a small job, but LensesRx will do 'em by mail. I got the progressive lenses, and the Rx part probably cost about $65 with shipping.

Above, more of Al's recumbent. Below, the Yellow Maserati.

This group has a range of abilities and gets spread out on the way back. We got passed by a faster group, and I just had to chase one of the guys in that group. We chatted a bit, and I almost missed a turn. I DID miss Dennis, whom I thought had gotten ahead of me... but he wasn't at the park at the end, and it took a long time for him and the rest of his cohort to show. It turned out they had taken a break. Sensible.

I'm back, of course, and TEW was right; I'm less engulfed by depression and anxiety (it's not all better, but it's undoubtedly better). I've got to set some limits at work: I can't maintain the pace I've been keeping, and just because I'm able to do something, that doesn't mean it's solely my responsibility.

Oh, well, Back to it tomorrow. I'm grateful for this day. That's all we really have, isn't it?

big worry, small relief

The Excellent Father-In-Law is failing; we are hiring a home health aide and talking seriously about hospice and palliative care.

On the other hand, the medical insurance cards showed up today.

snowy saturday thoughts

It's wicked snowy out there; we've already been out to get some of the snow off the cars (the Excellent Wife [TEW] has gone back out for another go-round, but I'm letting my back rest a bit; I don't have the mobility of a person her age, as well as having picked a parent who used a back brace, on and off, for the last four decades of his life). No bike ride this weekend. I'd ordered a new 46-tooth chainring to mount on Il Maserati Giallo, but the USPS site says it's stuck in Salt Lake City (despite the promise of delivery yesterday), so there's not much bike maintenance can go on, either (besides, the garage is 42°F).

I mentioned at work this week that I make myself 24 oz. of coffee every day in a percolator, and my coworker (a smidge more than half my age) asked what a percolator was; he'd heard of one in a song about coffee. Sheesh.

We also have a selection of cast-iron cookware; I figure by summer we'll be having historical tours in our kitchen. "See? That's the way they used to do it. And see that frypan? Just like the one in that Fried Green Tomatoes movie, right?"

Anyway, I plan to get out again to do some more shoveling in a couple hours. What are youse-all doing on this hunkering-down day?

today i learned

Today I learned that there is a Wikipedia article on toilet paper orientation.

It's long, with (at this writing) 133 notes and a comparable number of references.

I'm delighted.

a good christmas

It's been a good Christmas. Last night, The Excellent Wife (TEW) and I went to see her side of the family at the Excellent Parents-In-Law; they're both still alive and able to complain about their condition, which, given their ages, is pretty good. It was a late night for me, and I think I got out with only upsetting one person, which is good, for me. We do the whole Polish Wigilia thing, with rituals I can't pronounce, let alone spell, and the singing of Kolędy (Polish carols; my in-laws love to hear their Anglo son-in-law hammer his way through tunes they're familiar with) and the no-meat feast. We do presents, and then TEW and I come home for a quiet Christmas Day, which is really more my speed.

This morning, we got up and did our presents. My mom bought TEW this excellent Doonesbury compendium:

It's bigger than the old Sears catalog that, come to think of it, many of you probably don't remember.

Mom got me this Mad Magazine anthology. My tween and teen years were difficult, and Mad Magazine was one of my regular companions.

Not to be outdone, TEW got me two excellent books. The first is The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage, a somewhat-true graphic novel retelling of a partnership that built one of the first computing machines.

The other is The Wake, a novel written from the point of view of those whom William the Conqueror... well... conquered, I guess. It's written in a language that's kind of a best guess at how the folks then might have spoken (and written, if any of 'em had been literate). A quick look reminds me of Hoban's Riddley Walker, which I first read umpteen years ago.

Also under the tree, among the socks and shirts and stuff, was the Oxo crank peppermill. I make popcorn for snack, and to avoid the blood-pressure spike that would ensue from from weighting it down wit the amount of salt I'd like, I use fresh-ground pepper instead. I use enough, though, that using a regular peppermill might lead to carpal tunnel syndrome, or some such. I've used the crank today, and it's great.

The only vaguely bike-related gift is this Bell & Howell waterproof camera that I'm going to take on rides. I saw Tom H had one, and I cast the eye of lust upon it.

After the opening of the gifts, we took a walk (in the drizzle) around Johnson Park, then to breakfast at the diner. The fellow in  the other booth, eating alone, looked like he'd lost his only friend, so we secretly popped for his breakfast just before making our escape. Then home, for naps, stupid internet, and meatloaf for dinner.

Hope your Christmas went as well. How did you do? Any news or stories?