In 2006 we started a new tradition. After the end of the Christmas Eve service, we get into the car and we drive about 12 hours, arriving at my mother's house around 9 a.m. I took this picture last year, and my mother turned it into a Christmas card for us this year. Now don't be upset if you don't get one, it will no doubt fall on Tracey's shoulders to send them out and there are a limited number of them. This is my best picture ever. I'm sure it's far from perfect and someone who knew photography could have done it better. But this is the picture I carry in my head while we're driving home on a night where even the 18-wheelers are off the road. It wasn't posed, Ethan was looking at the lights, or looking at the snow, or both, and I'm not even sure that he knew I was getting ready to take the picture. This is what I think of when I think of Christmas: sitting by the big picture window in my mom's house, especially if there's Christmas music on, or maybe even more so if it's totally quiet. It wasn't Ethan I used to imagine looking out that window, it was me I used to remember looking out that window as a kid. There'd be a huge tree in the corner, no doubt far too big for the room. It would be decorated within an inch of its life, and underneath would be enough presents that you'd have to look hard to see the tree skirt. There's the ancient manger scene in its ancient shoebox and even more ancient tissue paper wrapped around the pieces. There's the knit stockings, each one with the names of the three kids on them, that have been around since before my memory begins, each one stuffed with stuff, and most of it wrapped, to add just that much more enjoyment to the day, just that much more anticipation and surprise (yes, even when the "surprise" looked remarkably like a can of shaving cream, or a box of toothpaste, or stick of deodorant. My childhood was imperfect, as almost everyone's was at times, and my childhood was wonderful, as almost everyone's was at times, but this picture -- first with me, and now with Ethan -- reminds me of the best of times, the best of moments, the best of family and friends, the best of life. It had, as you probably guessed, nothing to do with the presents, although I never turned them down of course. It had everything to do with moments like these, when whatever else was going on and had gone on and would go on later seemed to just disappear. You can't manufacture them, you can't recreate them, and if you try you'll fail. All you can do is enjoy them whenever they come along.

Girls & I took a spur of the moment road trip to Ocean City,Maryland for a 5 day long weekend. Our last minute effort to secure a room made it difficult; however, I found a ocean front hotel that just had a cancellation. we arrived early the next day to find a hole in the wall. The room was bad but the view was great. We were ontop a gift shop that was on the Ocean City, boardwalk. We had an unobstrucked view of the busy boardwalk, white sand beach below . But it was me & my 2 daughters along with scores of guests all under the age of 20. It was a strange vibe & my kids could sense it too. They were about 8 & 10 y.o. & had never been exposedI to anything like this hotel. A lot of activity. The TV in our room did not work, which I estimated to be at least a decade older than my oldest kid. A broken TV in any hotel is a major bummer to a 10 yo. The 2 beds & bathroom were also in poor shape. But My laptop had a DVD player that filled in nicely. Soon our stay took on an element of adventure. The kids never complianed but enjoyed making fun of the room & thier father who got the room. After we spent our 1st day at a water park with slides, we returned to our dungun-like rental to hundle around the laptop to watch a movie & eat pizza we carried in from a pizza shop below our hotel. The floor level of the hotel housed several typical boardwalk shops, like t-shirts, pizza, cheesy gift store thatt sold hermet crabs too. I have spent a lit on past hermet crabs but the expense really grows once you begin to buy the crab supporting things, like food, large color cages that eah require proper decorating. The crabs would soon pass about a day after returning home. The first death of a crab a couple years earilier was an emtionally difficult time. They played with the crabs, which they named & add a touch of color with fingernail polIish. The kids still remember our stay at the Royal Court on 14th st. If I recall. We have looked pictures that highlight the extreme contrast between our lame room & view of the Atlantic that also provided a fantastic sunrise each morning. It was a great trip.