This is how you know what time it is at my mother’s house at Christmas. She brings out her musical clocks that chime Christmas carols on the hour. At noon and at midnight, it’s Hark the Herald Angels Sing. At least on the one in the family room. I didn’t catch the carol that just played on the clock in the kitchen. She synechronized them so the carols play one after the other instead of exactly at the same moment. A nice touch, that.We’re decompressing after the rush of getting and going. Isaac is supremely happy with his “big” Christmas gift this year, a PSP. That stands for Play Station Portable, a preposterously sophisticated piece of technology. I’m going to shop with the gift certificates I received as gifts when we went back to D.C. We’re seeing family and friends, eating our favorite takeout, including chopped liver from Gold’s Delicatessen in Westport. The dinner my sister prepared on Christmas Eve was exquisite, one of the best filet mignons I’ve had in my life.
Tomorrow Isaac and I are going to New Haven for the day. We’re going to go to the New Haven Colony Historical Society and The Peabody Museum of Natural History for certain, and to Pepe’s Pizza and Atticus Books and Café.
Last night at dinner, the topic of skiing came up. I’ve never gone downhill skiing, and probably never will, even if I were to win this sweeps, a seven-night stay at the Hotel Alpina in Chamonix, France.
To enter, click HERE. The deadline is March 30.