I’m up before the rest of the household. Up before the streetcars, up before my father in law, but just barely. We’re going to early Catholic Mass, an oddment for me, as I’m not even slightly religious. I go with him, though, every time I’m here, to sit next to him in the quiet and companionability of the church, to feel his peace, and so he’ll have a family member by his side. I’m the only one who indulges this romance in him; none of the rest of the family are interested.
The whole church loves him, as do his patients, as does everyone who knows him- the family doesn’t know what they are missing, sitting by his side, enjoying the people who come up to him, who tell me, “I love this man.” I can’t imagine missing that. It means something to him, too, to have me there with him. All in all, it’s a pretty good deal. He’s 85; I’m not sure how many more times I’ll sit next to him, in that church, with those people. Each time is special.
Our dinner was exceptionally lovely. Each thing came out perfectly. We had twelve at table, using every piece of the china service, pressing into duty a few random gravy boats, serving bowls. Fraser made two pies, Mary whipped up a huge bowl of cream, everyone ate and laughed and then we called the people who weren’t at the table. I miss my parents keenly at the holidays; I want to call my mother, tell her I love her.
Also, Liam is very TALL and orange. Look at that hair in the sun. Damn! It suits him, with his dark eyes.


This ring is…fantastic. It’s just excellent in every way. And this tall photo of it makes me hot.





