"Hey! Unto you a child is born!"

“The Herdmans were absolutely the worst kids in the history of the world. They lied and stole and smoked cigars (even the girls) and talked dirty and hit little kids and cussed their teachers and took the name of the Lord in vain and set fire to Fred Shoemaker’s old broken-down toolhouse.”
Barbara Robinson, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

No one with the name Herdman will be found in our Mexican neighborhood, but I'm pretty sure that we know their primos. I'm pretty sure that Herdman cousins show up to our community outreach activities every week. I mean, there was Monday night...

There were the big boys, the teens, who come to practice guitar and hang out and then play soccer and torment be with the rest of us. They roam in a pack, rarely still, never quiet. In the two hours they were with us, they managed to crush one ping-pong ball, accidentally pound my teammate in the face with a soccer ball, escape and return, again and again, and again, to bible class, and marginally participate in art class. One boy, who we always think should know better, finished the evening by de-pants-ing (is that a word for anyone except those who work with boys?) another one of their crowd,  and then the whole herd found themselves kicked out dismissed early. 

There were the littles, the under 5 crowd, who come in full of smiles and hugs, who need the sticky candy and hot Cheeto residue washed off their hands before they touch anyone or anything. They take a try at ping-pong and manage to hit the ball everywhere but on the table. They work puzzles on the floor and force grooves that don't fit together and sling the giant pieces across the room when they don't match. One girl tries to build a tower and yells in frustration when the boy plays Godzilla, stomping through the block city and destroying her skyscraper in progress. They color Christmas tree pages in bright primary colors, branches of orange and yellow and red, and look up at us and ask, "Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it pretty? Do you like it?" Yes, yes we do, you little Picasso Modernists.

There were the girls. There is the one who has been with us since the beginning, who as she walks through the gate looks at me and shouts, "WHY? Kristy! Why did you cut your hair?!," obviously not impressed with my new do. There is the young teen who comes in with a hood over her head and when greeted offers a hug and a shy smile but who obviously is hurting. She won't talk; she won't answer why. She nods at a "headache?" but we're pretty sure that wasn't it. She won't stay seated in class to save her life. She leaves the room, multiple times, silently asking us to find her. And then when class is over and she finally has permission to leave, she comes back. There's the elementary student who comes in late and when everyone else has left, tells my teammate that she hates school, that the teacher doesn't like her, that the kids don't like her, that it's not worth it to go.

In The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, the Herdman kids learn the Christmas story and help the rest of the community to see it with brand new eyes. I think we are much the same. In this neighborhood, Christmas isn't about Santa, though in bright lights he is flying high over the carnecería next door. Only a few of these kids will have a tree in their house. They aren't making lists and checking them twice. In the book, Imogene Herdman plays Mary in the church play, and burps baby Jesus because, “That’s the whole point of Jesus — that he didn’t come down on a cloud like something out of “Amazing Comics,’ but that he was born and lived … a real person.”  The Christmas story doesn't change these messy stories, doesn't change our chaotic evening at the community center, at least not today. But it does change eternity. Jesus was born and lived, a real person!, and he also died for us and lives again for us- that's the hope that is our consolation and our assurance and the motivation that propels us forward, even on the most challenging of days.  The Herdman kid who plays the Angel of the Lord in the play yells out, “Hey! Unto you a child is born" and his sister responds with "Shazaaaam!" 
So do we. 

DPP 1- It's not yet time

(December Photo Project day 1)

The first of December seems like a good day to decorate for Christmas. I pull out the box of last year's decorations from the bottom shelf. I take the tree off the top of the refrigerator, its home for the last 11 months, and dust it off. I remove the string of lights from my headboard. The Pumpkin Vanilla candle and orange plaid runner and "Give Thanks" sign move to the back of the wardrobe. Evergreen moves in. Well, plastic evergreen; truly, ever green.

I spread out the festive red runner and slide  together the balsa reindeer. I wind the lights around the branches of the little tree. I hang the tiny bulbs with care. I set out the miniature tin nativity scene. I even hang up a few red and green prints over the couch. I turn on the star lights that have been dangling since last year. It all takes about 5 minutes. It looks like we are ready.

But today is but the first day of December. It's not yet time. Advent reminds us of the waiting. John writes at the beginning of his gospel, "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth... For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace."  (John 1:14, 16 ESV) And I believe those truths with all my heart. But I am prone to distraction, prone to forget. My prayer this Advent season is to look again, to remember and to experience that fullness, to recognize that grace upon grace.

(also- this is my ninth year to participate in the December Photo Project, a picture a day until Christmas! Join the fun?)

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We had two days of almost too much, too much good food, too much good company, too much sweet fellowship if such a thing were possible.

We meet my aunt and are surprised by my cousin and my kids hear exactly all the same biases from him that I have uttered for years. We laugh out loud! I might have even said, "Go Aggies!" (but for one day only, says this Lobo fan!)

We surprise the couple who loved me as their own when I was a college student and ever since. Surprises are the best! George gathers us to pray before leaving. We circle up and hold hands and I listen to that so familiar voice and my heart swells with gratitude.

We sit with friends 30 years long and catch up on today while our kids play games together. Sometimes when you are growing up you think about how great it will be when your kids are friends with your best friend's kids. Amazingly, I've known that wonder a couple of times. When it really happens, that's like whip cream and a cherry on top.

We worship in the church where we married 27 plus years ago. Yes, new faces and a beautiful new (to us) pipe organ. But a few familiar faces show themselves too, and we sing Christmas hymns on Christmas eve and see the same distracting view of blue skies and the mountains to the east, besides.

We stuff, STUFF, ourselves when welcomed like kin to the family-owned favorite burger join on the east side of the mountains. The food keeps coming and we just keep eating. We couldn't have been shown more generous hospitality. I can't eat one bite more.

Except then it was Christmas eve dinner, and I do. All the traditional New Mexican fare, and who wouldn't try one of everything? We go for a walk around the neighborhood looking at lights, searching for the traditional luminarias. Electricity is no substitute for folded paper bags with sand and a candle. But still, it is good.

Finally, we end Christmas eve with the one constant. No matter where we are, no matter who we are with, Christmas eve ends with new pajamas. We finish the day with exactly enough.

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(DPP23- "How did you become the woman with 86 Christmas bears?!")

It started as an innocent purchase in 1993 to celebrate the birth of a granddaughter coming to town for Christmas. You've seen them, probably, those of you who shop at K-Mart. They sit there on the shelves waiting for you every year. Most of us see them and say something like, "Oh how CUTE!" But then we keep walking.

No, not this GrandT. She saw the Mama Bear and Papa Bear and Baby Bear in coordinating Christmas hats and scarves, each with the date embroidered on the foot. She said something like "Oh how CUTE!" And then she put them, all three, in her cart.

And the next year, it happened again. And the following year. And it was if K-Mart started noticing that she would buy- and some years they might have two baby bears. Or an aunt and uncle bear. Not one to miss an opportunity, she would bring those bears home, too.

Fast forward to 2017. 24 years later. No one is really sure how many make up the Christmas bear population. The guesses number somewhere between 72 to 86. At any rate, it's more than can be displayed in the house. A few bears stayed in hibernation in their red and green plastic storage box caves this year.

The good news is that although the Christmas bear population has grown, so has the number of grandchildren. It is well known that at some point, probably not anytime soon, the bears will be relocated among 8 grandchildren. No bear family will be separated.

But as a warning to those of you who might be tempted by such a thing- perhaps you should keep walking!

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(DPP21- maybe a non-traditional Christmas?)

Sometimes Christmas gets complicated.
This year I put up a teeny tiny little tree, really- it can't be more than 12 inches tall, with a thin string of lights and little bulb ornaments, at my Mexico house. I hung some lights from my front curtain rods, but you know, I might just leave them there even once the season is over.

My ever diligent daughters put up our regular fake tree at our Texas house. They argued for a real pine. Maybe next year. This year white bulbs won the right to light up the branches. The girls hang up an assortment of ornaments, but the truth is, we have more ornaments than tree, and a good many remain in the red and green storage box. For several years, when we pull out the crate, I think, "I should sort through those...," and every year, when we go to put them away, I think, "Maybe next year..."

This year we are making the pilgrimage back to my hometown, to Albuquerque, for Christmas. But life isn't simple there, either. We'll spend time in several houses, and spend time here and there, among beautiful decorations, honoring old traditions and sharing time with family and old friends, but with new faces, in new places, too.

The consistent?
We celebrate not what the decorations look like, not where we are, not even who we happen to be with this season.
We celebrate the arrival of the coming King.

In the devotional I am reading this season, I am reminded and encouraged that, 

Regardless of whether or not this season leaves you feeling grieved or joyful, barren or expectant, Christ’s birth intersects our circumstances with a steady, unwavering hope. May the belief in His spoken promises light our path. May our souls praise the greatness of the Lord, and may our spirits rejoice in God our Savior (Luke 1:39). Amen.

That is all I need at Christmas.

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(DPP17- even better than the Best Christmas Pageant Ever.)

They had been practicing for a good while, our boys, strumming their chords and keeping the time in steady rhythm. A couple of weeks before, we started singing alongside of their music, and then that week, we brought in the keyboard and the cello that would accompany them on Sunday morning. They were ready.

But still, we never know exactly who will show up or what will happen on any given day with these guys. We set the meeting time for Sunday morning and hoped for the best. And when we pulled our big van out of the gate, we could see the boys, sitting on top of a neighbors car, ready to go.

Well, most of the boys. Two brothers and another boy were missing, but another friend had joined us. They looked good this morning, dressed in performance attire, black pants and a black shirt, black shoes. One decided on his bright red sneakers rather than black, because it is Christmas, after all. We gathered the guitars from inside the community center and loaded up.

Before we rounded the corner to look for one of the absent, he came, walking with his mom and older brother and little sister. They were all coming. We greeted one another with smiles. And the van got a little bit more full. We were 10 now. The boys strummed their guitars along the way and sang a few of the lyrics they knew. Most of these boys participate in the tutoring program. They read the signs along the way out loud, practicing their new skills.

We arrive at the church, early for practice, and they willingly help with extra chairs and carrying in food for ladies with hands too full to open the door. They are decked with fleece scarves to spruce up their black. Everyone is ready. But there is time to spare. Time to wait. They wander down the street for tacos. We hope that they come back in time...

The service begins, and the boys fill the row in front of us. I feel a tap on my shoulder and one of the missing has appeared. He greets us with a grin and slides in next to the boys, sharing chairs. They participate in the up and down, the liturgy of worship, the reading of the Word, the singing of the songs. We separate them to individual seats before the sermon begins.

And then, finally, it is time for the program.

One of my favorite Christmas stories, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, tells the story of year when the six delinquent Herdman siblings participate in the small town Sunday school Christmas play. In the story, the kids rock the traditional production with their unexpected behavior and reaction to the miracle of the Christmas story.
"And lo, an angel came upon them...," reads the narrator.
"SHAZAAAMMMM!," exclaims Gladys Herdman.
I wondered what might proceed when our boys joined the shepherds and kings...

The program was amazing. The set looked great. The littlest kids sang their hearts out. The older youth performed their lines with enthusiasm and sincerity. And when the play came to its climax, our musicians entered the stage and took their seats and readied to play. The angel and Mary and Joseph took center stage. The shepherds entered, and their was our guy, covered with a robe and headdress. The kings took stage left, and there was another one of our boys, with a royal turban and holding out a shiny package with a grin.

At the end of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, Barbara Robinson wrote,
"It suddenly occurred to me that this was just the way it must have been for the real Holy Family, stuck away in a barn by people who didn’t much care what happened to them. They couldn’t have been very neat and tidy either, but more like this Mary and Joseph.”
Probably not too many of those in the congregation knows much about those extra boys playing guitar and donning costumes. But we do. We know that they come from a place where few care much about what happens to them. They aren't often considered neat and tidy.

Among all the miracles of Christmas, isn't one the unexplainable wonder that this baby Jesus came, in ordinary flesh, to a very ordinary place, for incredibly ordinary people like us? He makes no requirements that we act well, because he offers enormous grace in the forgiveness of sin. He makes  
no demands that we bring anything before him, except faith in him. His love reaches to the heavens and he offers the promise of eternity for those who believe. 
"SHAZAAAMMMM!," we should all exclaim!

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(DPP16- Annual Cookie Exchange: I think Mary Berry would give us a star.)

I thought I might miss it this year. I had put the date on the calendar a month ahead of time. But then the day changed, and I wasn't sure if I could make it.

Miss the Annual Cookie Exchange?

Call me a Church Lady; I don't care a bit. I am all in for the Annual Cookie Exchange hosted by the ladies at my church. I will happily fit every stereotype in the book. I sort through my recipes to decide this year's offering. Inevitably, I have to visit the baking aisle again to restock the supplies. Yes, I even wear an apron while cooking.

This year's contribution came in a plate of Cherry Chocolate Shortbread cookies. I made a log of buttery dough, marbled with maraschino cherries and dark chocolate chips. They looked good. They tasted good! Yep, I'll say it- I even impressed myself.

Everyone brings a plate of cookies and we line up to get a taste of the assortment. I refrained from trying every single type. Barely. I mean, some treats waited for the taking! The Holliday girls brought Citrus Butter Cookies and Marshmallow Wreaths and Cocoa Mocha Crinkles dusted with powdered sugar. There were layered bars and pecan bars and chocolate chips and sugar cookies and Mexican wedding cookies and, well, simply LOTS of cookies. Let's say, hypothetically, you were limiting your sweets intake to one day a week... THIS is the day to partake.

But as good as those cookies are, just as sweet is sitting around the table with my friends and catching up on life and letting the busyness of the world pass by for a short time on a December Saturday afternoon. I remember my grandma spending days baking cookies before Christmas time. She would stack the containers in her shower stall, and then make plates for friends and family. I don't know how the Christmas cookie tradition started, but I am glad that it continues even now.

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DPP14-

(with prior planning, you might just get your guy to take you to the Festival of Lights.)

I love a parade. I love a drive to nowhere. I love stopping to take a picture. I love Christmas lights. My guy- not so much any of these things.

Every year, the little town right next to the border puts on a big light display- the Hidalgo Festival of Lights. It cannot be compared to any other display that I've ever seen. "5 million lights, 500 displays!," they boast. Every year, they announce a new theme, but in addition to the new display, they bring back all the old ones, so it turns into an eclectic mix of anything and everything, all lit up Christmas.

This year, it is an "Intergalactic Christmas" in homage to the new Star Wars film. And as such, there was a display with nearly life-sized Hans and Chewie and Luke and Leia and R2D2 and C3PO and Darth Vader and Darth Maul all singing Christmas carols in a show of intergalactic peace, next to lit up x-wing fighters and ti-fighters and rovers. Across the street are the Toy Story characters. Down the road you'll see minions and Angry Birds and the Justice League superheroes with a Hidalgo police office figure. There are the 12 Days of Christmas. There is the Butterfly Garden. There are dinosaurs and skateboarding elves. There are the symbols of Texas, a huge armadillo and a boot and a yellow rose, all lit up. There's town mascot, the World's Largest Killer Bee, lit up right there in front of the town hall. There are Christmas trees and candy canes and presents. There are even a couple of nativity scenes along the way.

But of course, as my guy reminds me with a groan, there is also traffic. And people. People who cut off the flow and cut into the line. There is the inevitable figuring out where exactly to get in the queue. There is the slowing down and the people who shine their brights into your rear view mirror the entire way. (um... that was me one year. I am sorry. It really was a mistake...) The first time I mentioned visiting the lights this year, I'm pretty sure he ignored me. The second time, on our way back to Mexico one evening, when I asked, "How 'bout driving through the lights tonight?," I received a flat-out, end of conversation, "No." But the third time, the third time, that was the charm.

We didn't actually drive the entire 9 mile route in and around the town this year. We visited on a weekday at 6:30, before the crowds, before the traffic, swelled. We parked and walked just a few blocks and around the square. We sat on bleachers in a crowd of Winter Texans and listened to a boys' choir from San Luis Potosí sing Mexican villancicos. And it was all good. We made it home without one single conflict! I love Christmas lights. And I love my guy.

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DPP11-

(All was calm, all was bright.)

... by the end of the day.

If you stopped by a bit earlier, "all is calm" probably would not have come to mind.

There was the scrambling for teams for soccer. And the actually scrambling during soccer. (Thankfully, the boys were kind to the middle-aged lady playing in street shoes.)

There was the inevitable scuffle in the street before we opened the gate. There was the dividing up groups and there were the few who were kicked out for Unnecessary Roughness.

There were the multiple boys who traded in their lotería cards mid-game because they weren't winning. (I feel you, boys. I know. I know.) They still didn't win.

There was the sweet girl who really looked like she was going to toss her cookies, before she ever ate a cookie. She almost, but never, did, get sick (I know. I took her to the bathroom.). And still, she refused to leave, still trying to participate.

There was the jockeying for tamales, the trading of juice jugs, the grab for cupcakes.

There was the absence of some we hope will come, and the surprise of others we don't expect.

There were the hard realities of life in a hard place today. Hard stories. The things that make us shake our heads and say, "Come Lord Jesus."

And still, at the end of the day, the tree glowed beautiful, and still, there was the hope of not only of the baby born long ago, but also the Risen King.

All is calm. All is bright.

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DPP 6-

(my little Christmas tree)

"Now Christmas is built on the beautiful and intentional paradox; that the birth of the homeless should be celebrated in every home."
GK Chesterton

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DPP4-

(the thrill of throwing tinsel on the tree!)

Although our event pales in comparison, Tree Decorating Day feels as big as the happenings at Rockefeller Plaza or the White House. Three trees to decorate at three sites; three Colorado Douglas fir pines, which immediately lost a pound of needles when we cut the twine away from the branches. At each site, we set the trees in their stands and tried to fluff out the branches and wound lights around, top to bottom. (at two sites, we started the lights with the wrong end and had to start over. I'm pretty sure that was my fault, both times...)

The festivities began in the morning in the room next door, with the high school deaf kids. They are awesome. High school kids still love the thrill of Christmas and of getting out of their ordinary work for a special project. But, they know what to do. They put the ornaments on in an orderly manner. They divide and conquer, one group putting on hooks, another group hanging. They pose and look at the camera all at once when directed. They thank you for cookies. It is all lovely.

It goes a little bit differently with the lower school. In preparation, we string the ornaments on an line at eye-level. We hand the kids the ornaments and they put them on the tree. Is it a universal truth that all kids believe that if one ornament on a branch is good, 5 ornaments on a branch is better? (grin!) They laugh when they drop a shiny silver ball and it bounces back up to catch. (unbreakable Christmas ornament balls should be counted as a Great Idea!) And then- the tinsel! They throw it, really!- throw it!, on the tree with unmatched enthusiasm. They gather around the tree for a photo, but the little boys keep moving and no one is looking in the same direction. You can't help but laugh out loud in the thrill of it all.

And then, onto the neighborhood and evening activities. Word on the street was that we were having a Christmas party, and so lots of faces we haven't seen in a while showed up. We bust out the lotería boards for the girls and the littles while the older boys play soccer. We rotate through the Bible story- The Star and the Wise Men and Seeking the Newborn King Jesus, and the coloring project, and the computer lab, all with the kids in anticipation of decorating. Just how do you decorate a single tree with a mob of 25 kids between 4 and 15 years old? We try to line them up to take turns, two ornaments at a time. Some creative kids climb the stairs and lean through the rail perilously, trying to get their ornament to the Very Top. Perhaps no tree has ever been decorated more quickly; it couldn't be more than 5 minutes and every ornament has been hung.

I read this morning about the beginnings of the Christmas tree tradition, that in the 1500's the first trees were called "Paradise Trees." I read that the evergreen trees were said to "represent mankind's fall in the garden of Eden." Those first trees were decorated with apples, representing the fruit of that first tree, the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Over time, the apples were replaced with the round bulbs we recognize today, and lights replaced candles, and we have added many more decorations besides.

This day, even as we celebrated the coming of Christ with this old tradition of decorating the pines, we still acknowledge the consequences of the Fall. We mourned the death of the dad of some of our neighborhood kids. We prayed for wisdom and courage over hard situations with people we have grown to love. Yet even in the hard and dark, we have hope in the life to come. At the end of the day, I think we all smile at the thrill of it all.

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DPP 1-

We received the first announcement about the coming concert in September. We bought the tickets in October. We waited through November. Finally the first day of December arrived!

Let me suggest that possibly the Very Best Way to open the Advent season would be to attend a Christmas concert on December 1. Even better, take a car full of youth. Even better, take your faves! (and maybe, even better, take an adult companion... well, maybe next year...)

Have your daughter sit in the navigator's position, or maybe I should say dj's seat, on the front passenger side and have her choose the tunes for the trip. Stop to pick up the girl who just successfully presented her Freshman project (and bring her a Christmas tree and two Advent calendars because that's what she likes). Go have some lunch at Chick-Fil-A. Make a stop to buy a shirt to replace the one that was the unfortunate victim of coffee spillage (note: for the record- this time it was not me! But we'll allow that girl reveal herself...). Convince the tribe to spend a little bit of time at Half Price Books. Wander through Target for gift exchange treats and a box of cereal and a carton of milk (note: that was for the college student, not for me!). Stop to try on Ugly Christmas Sweaters.
Return to campus. Help to fluff the boxed tree. Charge the phone. Decide that 6 people in one half of a dorm room for two hours might be too much. Waste time at Starbucks. Play Hangman by the rules of the dictatorial uber-competitive sister. Laugh out loud!

Eat at Chuy's! Partake of free nachos and chips and salsa and share the Taco-Enchilada plate and feel stuffed. Navigate your way to the concert parking lot. Enjoy that extra trip back and forth over the pretty lit up bridge when you miss the exit ("keep going" can be interpreted several ways, don't you think?). Don't worry about those multiple u-turns on unlit streets or the GPS recalculating or the exasperated navigator next to you. Worry a little bit about the backseat passengers who need the bathroom now. Park the car. Return your daughter's purse to the car. Return your daughter's camera to the car. Enter the arena at your section, center stage! Turn right and climb 26 rows to the Very Very Top of the arena. Be careful not to trip. Settle in for the concert.

And what a concert! The percussion section from For King and Country left us reverberating toe to head. Why do my eyes water when we start? Was it the fog machine? Was it the thrill of that first familiar line, "Come, they told me, pa rum pum pum pum..." Was it the excited faces of my peeps five seats down? We clapped in time and sang along, even when we could not hear ourselves.

In the devotional I am reading this season, the authors remind us of "What is Advent?"

During Advent, we remember when our Savior stepped out of eternity into time to take on flesh. He came to live among us and offer His life for us, dying for our sins and rising from the grave. At Christmas, we don't just celebrate that He came; we celebrate why He came.We also anticipate Christ's promised return. After Jesus finished the work He had come to do, He promised He would return to establish His kingdom for all eternity. Celebrating Christmas is an act of worshiping the living Savior who will come again to make all things new. Jesus Christ has come, and He is coming again. This is the heart of Advent.(from Joy to the World, Advent 2017 by She Reads Truth)

Celebrating the beginning of the Advent season with A Glorious Christmas tour was indeed glorious.

DPP 2017

 It's that time of year! I checked the archives and reminded myself that I first participated in the December Photo Project in 2009. The DPP has become a holiday activity that I really look forward to- and this year is no exception. Already I see familiar names on the list. (Hi Emma!!) Thanks Rebecca Tredway for getting it going again this year!

Hey you Photogs! Join me!! Find all the details at the December Photo Project Sign Up page.

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Ever since becoming a Christ-follower, I have believed that the Perfect Storm is when Christmas falls on a Sunday. And no less so this year. 

Early to rise, the day begins- our traditional Christmas breakfast and the every-week-ordinary Sunday routine. Prayer and Sunday School and worship-
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:1-5)

My favorite hymns. The sweet fellowship of our church family.
A present that didn't know how right it's timing would be. 

The ease of lunch with dear friends. An afternoon movie. Talking to far-away family. And finally, the opening of gifts, just icing on the cake, not the meal itself. 

And to finish, a family picture with the self-timer, missing the ones not in the frame so very much. 

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
Yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
Oh, fall on your knees and hear the angels' voices
Singing, O, night divine
"O Holy Night"

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on the morning run through the 'hood...
O come, O come Immanuel.

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DPP 11- We gathered together, young to aging, to sing the wonder of Advent, the hope of Christ who came and who comes again.

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DPP9- when the receiver understand what the gift is... the absolute hilarity of the White Elephant exchange.

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DPP8- The longhorn really doesn't represent the fun we had (though it probably more accurately tells of my artistic abilities...)

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DPP5- A birthday-celebration-consolation dinner at the end of a very full day.

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DPP 4- Tribute to perhaps the oldest ornament on the tree, the much beloved Jumping Jack, faithfully hanging since 1971 (as documented by the faded script on the back). Jack hung next to my sister's Santa down in the bottom branches of the tree for a good many years, which perhaps explains his missing leg and frayed string. Well done, Jack!