Monday was the day before Christmas. The first thing that happened was that Bobby's friend Joanna came over to visit, and we went for a walk with Zoe. In the little bookstore in Scarsdale village I bought two books: Ahab's Wife as a present for my mother, although theoretically I might want to read it sometime, and Cloudsplitter for myself. They were expensive, but I got to hold them right then. It turned out that my folks and Martha had been listening to Cloudsplitter on the drive up. I have plans to read it with Brigid. It looks good and big and American. It's by Russell Banks. I also bought myself a tube of gingermint toothpaste. With Propylis and Myrrh, how can it not be good. When we got back there was some gaming going on. I played jacks with Martha and Sarah and her friend and Emily, and got up to foursies. Later on I played with Emily and Becky, and Becky kicked our butts (she played in elementary school.) And Pounce. What a great game. I'm pretty good at it too.

Soon everybody showed up, all the usual folks. I was pretty tired and out of it, maybe because of allergy medicine. In fact I almost fell asleep on the couch in the den. Hors d'oeuvres were good - liver pate and little pumpernickel slices and stuff - but dinner was actually really good. Surprising that I liked it so much; turkey and potatoes and roasted veggies and so forth. I sat with Sean and Karen and my mom and we talked about BattleBots. Sean is building one. I'd like to watch the show sometime. Dessert. Wow. It's a good thing I didn't make the buche because there were a lot of other things. Karen's pumpkin cheesecake, her mom's apple crumble and homemade truffles (too bad I don't like chocolate, those things were incredible) and pumpkin pie and fruit salad. And even better Sarahs than usual, more luscious.

Matt and Jess came over after dinner while we were in the middle of a massive pouncefest, then they came over a half-hour later with Lillie D. and we went to midnight mass. Martha and Bobby and Zoe and Emily came along, but they all stood in the back and left before we did; the place was crowded but someone offered us four seats in the front. They were really in the front - the first row, right next to the altar, so the entire congregation could watch us four jews and semi-jews as we didn't cross ourselves, didn't genuflect, didn't know the words to the prayers. We sang the hymns though - some of my favorites too (Hark the Herald, Angels We Have, O Come All), and bowed our heads and so forth. Lillie was wearing a funky purple skirt. A small asian woman in a pat green coat and hat, sitting on the other side of Jess from me, glanced at us disapprovingly when we didn't know how to respond: a pair of servicemen in uniform stood in front of the altar and the priest said "I think you know what to do." What we were supposed to do was clap and stand up, which we eventually did. The congregation was interestingly mixed, from the elegant people in extravagant hats and stuffy expressions to Matt's streaked-dirty-blond ninth-grade girlfriend, across the altar from us, looking very bored and disinterested in her rather revealing top. The priest gave a funny homily, started by reciting "the Little Drummer Boy," saying why he was glad that sales are down 7 to 10 percent this year, then interrupted himself to warn "Turn off that cellphone before I kill you." Odd, we thought, for a priest to say. We left just before communion, bewildered and bemused. Next year, we should definitely do what I had suggested: find a black gospel church to attend Christmas eve services.

When we got back, there was a group sitting in the living room tossing around sordid caper ideas. They got as far as taking a photo of Matt Rubin's naked behind. People started to disperse before too long, and I joined them. I favored the burn out rather than fade away model for the caper this year. But Bob and Dan insisted on doing something, and apparently they stayed up until five or so making 30-second video clips of the dogs as spokesmen for the warring factions in the dispute over present distribution. But I went to bed.

first you doubt yourself
and then you doubt her