Happy New Year, y'all.

I don't do charity work. I should. I have the time. I disagree with Gary Farber often. He is in bad straits. That is MY Paypal button he has on his site. I will be buying the money order for his rent this Friday. If y'all don't help him out to the tune of a dollar or two, I'll make up the difference myself. From Delaware to Kansas, Louisiana to Colorado, it is the season of love.

What are the odds that there was another girl in Bloggerville cutting mustard greens this afternoon with a parrot on her head?

Oh, and I got some kind of yucky respiratory crap that put me to bed for two days. We were right when we were young. Those other kids did have cooties.

What did I get for Christmas? A generous envelope from my in-laws, a Dremel, and a pretty little chest with two nested boxes inside that I once might have called a stash box, but in my mature years call a "decorative accent".

The box really is a pretty thing and goes perfectly well on my coffee table. Michael picked that out. I try to discourage the boys from buying anything for us. When he brought the gift in on Christmas Eve, I started with the "You don't have to buy anything for us. That's not what Christmas is about" speech. He said, "Janis, wait. I just want you to see this." "OK, I'll look at it tomorrow."

When we did the Santa routine the next day, we put it on the bar and he helped me open it because it was tightly taped. He stood over me and instructed me how to look inside to find the smaller boxes. I was delighted. As I told him, it's not something I would have bought, but it suited my taste to a tee. He was thrilled because he had pleased me.

The box is just a box (or three) even if it is exotic, but his thrill was a real gift in the Christmas spirit.

You see, Michael was 25 when Lyman and I married. There's no particular reason for him to pay attention to me.

On the other hand, when Jason came in, he gave me a big hug and said, "I'm sorry, Janis. I've been broke. I don't have a gift for you." "Oh, I don't care, Jason. That's not what Christmas is about."

Way cool, Mr. Stinson. Best wishes.

Tony Woodlief has the first new post up for months. The baby, Eli, is talking now.

This is a loss. Goodbye, Iranian Girl. Be safe. Come back when you will.

Here 's another thing that Nicole brought from her home. Aside from being lovely, and having a pretty voice. Her mother has three children. Nicole has boys on both sides. Her mother saved her change for a couple years and threw it in a box and gave it to the children with a stack of coin wrappers. Nicole loved it.

Shoot, yeah, darlin'. That sounds like home.

For the record, Nicole said, "My family doesn't do stockings. This is fun."

Christmas? "It was the bestest day of my goodest life," as Jason said as a child.

Michael has laid a fire. Lyman's in the kitchen. All is right with the world.

Merry Christmas, y'all.

I remembered something for the kids' stockings that I thought of a long time ago: a book of postage stamps. It's hard for busy young'uns to make it to the post office.

Lucy is harder to buy for. It's Christmas every day for her. I did find a pack of 150 popsicle sticks that should keep her busy for a day or two.

A threat of rain in the south brought us home a day early. Good thing. We had .72 inches last night and the front is heading across our driving path. The trip was good, though we were jammed up at the intersection of 59 and 98 in Hattiesburg, MS. That's a shopping district, and people were lined up at the turn-offs. Made me feel a little better. The weather at the coast was conducive to nothing better than sitting on the balcony, so I haven't accomplished much in the way of shopping.

Time now to go into high gear cleaning, shopping and cooking. There will be seven for dinner on Christmas Day. Michael will come on Christmas Eve, Jason and Nicole on the day, and Lyman's parents are joining us for dinner. And, of course, Lucy. Make that eight.

Must say the drapes are better with a holdback. The new washer-dryer is in. Do you know how much these stack units cost? So that's the bones. This has been a three-year project. Thanks to Ginny and Bob Reynolds of Michigan, who have been patient with us, and Ann and Bill Fitzroy of Mississippi, who have been wonderfully helpful.

Irrelevant question: "Why is the vent hose too short?" Sometimes I want to wring his neck.

The Gulf is beautiful today. Seagulls are bathing in the swimming pool. Lucy is afraid of gulls.

I also don't think a lot of Mark, the maintenance man. But he lost a 16-month-old granddaughter to pneumonia recently. At Christmas.