Put a damn bow on it already!

I am done. Six pounds of English Toffee and 1013 cookies. Enough, which never seemed to be, is. More might be better, and too much just about right, but for now, enough simply is. I have distributed most of the cookie trays to those deemed worthy. That is, most of the Pedestrian Subjunctives readership. I used the Microsoft Works labels program to really geek up things. Time to move on. My son spends every Christmas with me, and has since he was two. He spends Thanksgiving with his mom. Being an every-other-weekend dad can, at times be a bit frustrating, but there are moments. One of my personal favorites involves a Christmas tradition we started when Paul was two, maybe three. After putting him to bed on Christmas Eve, I would go into the yard and scatter Milk Duds. Then, on Christmas morning, the first thing we would do is go outside and look for reindeer droppings. I didn't let him eat them. That could have icky ramifications should we, while on a hike in the woods, come across some real droppings. He has outgrown that though. But this year, for cookie tray recipients who have younger children, I have included bags of milk duds, and also of mini marshmallows, labeled Reindeer Droppings and Snowman Poop, respectively. And respectfully. Tastefully too. Paul and I watch movies on Christmas Day. Last year we had an Ed Wood movie festival: Plan Nine from Outer Space, Night of the Ghouls, Bride of the Monster, The Bride and the Beast, Orgy of the Dead, and for good measure, Tim Burton's Ed Wood. Whew! This year, assuming Flicks and Pics has them in stock, I have scheduled for our viewing pleasure, Planet of the Apes, Beneath the Planet of the Apes, Escape from Planet of the Apes, Conquest of Planet of the Apes, and Battle for Planet of the Apes. Double whew! (Wary of Wikipedia, I apologize, if necessary, for the gratuitous link.) And finally, nearly finally anyway, this particular holiday musing will close with one of my favorite things. Well, several actually, rolled into one, somewhat larger, figurative objet (d'art?). The volunteer manager for Special Olympics Oregon sent me a Starbucks gift card for Christmas, along with some hot chocolate and marshmallows. Special Olympics, coffee, cocoa, Snowman Poop. What more could I hope for? Well, I'll tell you Dear Reader: I had to register the Starbucks card on line, which required that I input a user name and a password. I am quite happy Dostoyesvsky was so prolific. A writer. OK. OK. Now, finally, I leave you with a picture of a few of the cookie trays.