My New Year's Eve plan is to fall asleep reading The Fourth Crusade, loaned to me by Charles the Brother. (Not Charles the Bird, aka Little Charles, Charlie Big Toes, and Charles Gore. Not to mention Punk.)

So if I don't post before then, I wish you all a happy, healthy, safe, prosperous, sweet new year.

I really don't need this weather today, as if I ever did.

UPDATED: Never mind. All past with hardly any rain.

My mama, on the other hand, ran her household like a drill sergeant. With seven kids to manage, she had to keep things in check. Five boys could have cleared her shelves in as many days.

She also used jelly glasses. Which I'd do if we ate that much jelly. Break or lose one, there's another in the refrigerator. Hard to make a set when you use up a jar of jelly in about three years.

Do they even sell jelly in glasses anymore?

My biggest peeve with the youngs of this household is that they don't respect the commons. Things -- glasses, towels, tools -- have a place and should be returned to that place for use in the future.

Glasses particularly. Oh, I (speaking for the house) own a set of water glasses if I can count those in cars, Natchez and Baton Rouge as a set. Kids don't even have to put them in the dishwasher. Just set them in the sink.

Ferals.

For ten years, I've been dragging around a ratty checkbook with tatty corners because it was loose in my purse. And I always carried another checkbook with a cheap bank cover because It contained my ID and cards.

So I splurged this year.

Now I am in control of my destiny (at the very least, my appearance at the checkout counter), come hell or high water. We've had some of both at the coast during the past decade.

I am becoming my mother.

It's in the way I touch fabric, or lean over the dishwasher, or want to rip all the Christmas stuff out right NOW, because the season is over. Over, I'm telling you.

Time for a new year.

In this day and time, people only get "Les Pauls" as gifts.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BQyQ2ucUsA

For you, James.

Merry Christmas!

Santa's welcome to come rest for a lacy nog after he helps the fathers in the neighborhood with the trampolines. Our sons expect them to be working until about 4 am. Maybe later.

One of my guests is wearing Bulgari perfume. Right off, I'll say I favor her over the other persons in the house.

Christmas wisdom: responsible, home-owning 35- and 40-year-olds like $3 toys. Bingo was a hit.

Chef Tony, the rolls still aren't right.

Alrighty, then. I have my saf-instant yeast and my King Arthur Flour, so let's tackle this recipe for rolls again.

Time to step up now, guests coming Tuesday.

For Christmas, I want a checkbook cover for the beach account and to be successful at making these rolls. Santa can keep his sables, unless it grows colder.

Our young Texans will be passing through again on their way to Florida on Tuesday. They'll stay two nights. I like them.

My, that was a bracing walk across the parking lot to the pool this windy morning.

The morning or evening swim might become a habit when we're here in the future. Feels pretty good after working.

But I'm ready for the fireplace at home.