First Friends of Whittier, Tara and I alone in the rearmost row, me gawking at the organ (very trendy in its day, still handsome). The service ended with candlelight (if we'd all flicked our lighters, it'd have been more Woodstocky, but hey, I'm post-boomer, not all that nostalgic for what I wasn't around to experience (I like seeing the DVDs though)).
Christmas morning: Alexia joined us vicariously, via primitive avatar technology courtesy of Google. Luna the dog dawned a ridiculous outfit (OK, we dawned it for her). Gifts were exchanged, including some I'd strategically given to mom, looking forward to perusing: Karen Armstrong's Bible bio, Plame Wilson's autobio, a popular Irshad Manji tome. Gifts to Tara included Lost season 3, to Julie, a philosophy for children book on the Hindu dieties.
In the background, I shared another anecdote from my young adulthood with Jon, a collector of heroic stories of one kind or another (really it's about mom and dad, mostly mom, but I sneak in as the storyteller here and there).
I plan to add an iguana's picture to this post, one our family is helping to take care of, while its owners are away. You might think a lizard is indecorous for a Christmas post, but I say the Animal Kingdom is welcome at the table of Christ, a primary teaching of that famous Manger Scene aesthetic, so "in your face" this time of year (I'm not complaining -- I think Christmas is lovely and certainly holy, Santa Claus and all the rest of it).
Good presents from VIP Koski: crisp, professional geometry posts. The Fuller School is in good shape.