What the hell happened to my gay apparel?

I'm back in Seattle now. The Christmas weekend was the usual blend of warm family togetherness and laughter and story-telling and great food and plenty of it and fraught anxiety and fragile fears, some related to my dad's health, some having to do with the stress-driven jollity. My bacon-loving younger nephew loved the bacon wallet I got for him. Dad told me stories about his early childhood in Duchess, Alberta, where he was born, and about the Canadian histories of both sides of his family. My mom and I reminisced about the decadent pathologists she worked for when I was younger -- first time I'd thought about them since I watched them with the wondering eyes of an adolescent. My niece's husband fits in well with our boisterous crew. He loves our loud, forceful discussions of politics, religion, books, and whatever. My older nephew made the same observation as he drove me to the airport today and said that most of his own friends would probably flee our table when it got intense, as it does. He was proud that he's finally of an age when he's interested and able to take part in the, uh, discussion. That kid is definitely growing up!

Well, it's all pretty strong stuff, for good and ill. I'm glad it's over. Glad the days are longer now, up here in the northern hemisphere.

What about you kids? Are you glad about anything?