Stage One

Florida. Land of the crossing jaguar, of the humid airport, of the golf course pond with "is that an alligator?" on the other side. Christmas in a new land, for me, followed by Christmas again in a new land, for Ethan. A fair trade-off, I suppose. Tonight we have the dog-races and handfuls of m&ms (the candy jar is never empty), tomorrow the last siblings come in and we make tracks to the Olive Garden (such good soup/salad/breadsticks!) for a delightful evening of food. It will be a different Christmas - no escaping that - but we're bound now by in-law inconvenience for the holidays and there's some level of suffering. At least the people are friendly, the beds clean, and the grapes cold and crisp from the fridge. If we just got some fresh squeezed orange juice and a few plump grapefruit, I'd feel right at home.