December 27, 2021

J commanded me “Wash your car,” a comment relative to how long we’ve gone without a good, driving, wash-your-car rain. 

Christmas Eve service at the church was expectable and expectably lovely. Came home, watched a little TV, drank DJ’s egg nog. Off to Atlanta early the next day, survived the gigantic family gathering, many times larger and more disparate than Dr. Fauci would probably advise. I simply did not get the enjoying-the-family gene, so dominant in my sister. I brace myself for an hour or so before I can relax into it. I do well in formal social situations; informality is a process with me. My sister glows the more as the mayhem increases. But it was lovely, all the nephews and their spouses or near-spouses, M’s parents and grandparents, who apparently all travel as a team, even A, whose friendship with J is odd and fortunate. Food was eaten, gingerbread houses made, anecdotes shared, gifts exchanged. D got me a bb gun to defend against the bears. I can’t imagine using it for that, but I’ll load it and keep it at the ready in case someday it comes to pass. Beka’s flight from Denmark was discussed. She blames Denmark, but among all countries Denmark is probably unblameable. I think she found her paradise in Colorado and wants to go back to it. No blame there. Cannot sleep in my sister’s house. Who knows why? 

The long drive each way, unremarkable.

On the schedule: wrestling with Allianz over a refund for the Jerusalem trip; testing the weather outside to see if it’s hikeable.