I guess I'm just about absolutely contented on Christmas morning. Everything but family and joy is far away. The house is warm as toast. The presents and wrapping paper and bows scream out opulence. A photo doesn't seem to do it justice.

The weird gifts continue from the same people who have given you weird gifts in the past. How is it possible to not be able to buy a reasonable Christmas present year after year? What must those lives be like on a day to day basis? Do they just operate in confusion all the time? Luckily we all laugh with glee about those presents.

Carter and I talked about buying a Carlos Paez Vilaro painting as an investment. But I don't think I can afford it AND who would ever want to sell it once you had one. Perhaps I'll enquire about one of the smaller ones that is not listed on the website (since the larger ones are about twenty thousand dollars). He's a Uraguayan master ala Picasso, if you don't know him. His website is really a good one http://www.carlospaezvilaro.com.uy/casapueblo.swf
and the music alone at the beginning is worth the trip there. But spend some time interacting with this site and you'll really have fun.

It's Christmas and I smell coffee and cinnamon (wassail). There are English muffins with butter and jellies. Carter has given me a Simon and Garfunkel treasury from the past. Five albums plus 9 unreleased cuts on CD. They sound better than they ever did on vinyl. Of course one of my goals this week is to get the vinyl playing again in the conservatory. Rachel gave me a great collection of Johnny Cash hits. I got some cool books. Al Franken to make me laugh and make my blood boil, and 1776, to engage my mind and make me think about the origins of our country. Of course I've read the first few pages of each. Great maps and paintings in the latter. Also a coffee table book of Gettysburg, mostly text and photos of the participants. A trip to Gettysburg should be required for all politicians. You get a different understanding of honor and sacrifice when you are there. You will cry standing in those fields. There are crowds of people walking over the battle field and they all speak in hushed tones. Not even a child dares to raise their voice. And when you stand on the field of Pickett's charge, you cannot speak at all. How did Lee make such a error in judgment? He was behind the times and was ruined by technological advances. It would have worked in the revolutionary war. The troops would have have broken through the northern lines and broken their army and the confederates would have marched on Washington without resistance and likely burned it. The war would have been over and turned out differently. Lee could see that ending in his mind. Pickett never forgave him.

There are warm snuggly pajamas, mugs, oranges, top gun in widescreen and lemony snickett (that should be fun). The bird clock and carol clock are chirping and singing. The Christmas tree lights are lit brightly. Carolers and an instrumental quintet have been added to the village of Dicken's houses and people. What a pleasant and overdue addition.

Hopefully your house is warm and bright and happy today too.