The calm before the storm of wrapping paper

By now, all the kids are teenagers, so they aren't the first ones up on Xmas morning. Actually, judging from the stocking, Graham was the first, but then he retreated to his bed where he is probably (and I just confirmed this with an Xmas morning hug) ensconced in his devices.

The sun is coming in off the Long Island Sound here in the sun room. We have unfortunately gotten into a rhythm in which presents are opened during the sunniest moment of the day, so we are pretty much blinded, but for now, I am in a shady spot where I can see my screen.

This year is a melancholy one for us all. It is not improbable, and probably it is the right thing for all concerned, that this should be our last Christmas here in Larchmont. There was a bunch of mold and other old house problems that had to be remediated in the fall, and Rob is being driven bat-shit crazy living here with his mom. Which is normal for a 50-year old guy, however quirky. He did not grow up aspiring to be the caretaker of a 100-year old house. Who in his right mind would?

So we are doing our best to enjoy the holiday. I won't lie to you and pretend that these wacky markets are helpful in any way. The absence of sensible, principles-based leadership the world around, the profusion of us-firstism married with a disregard for human rights, all set against a backdrop of global overleverage, does not make the path of 2019 and thereafter look to be a simple or easy one. But we will figure it out, and that is a task for another day. For now, onward to breakfast!