On Why Your Christmas Card Might Arrive Postage Due

My social calendar does not permit a trip to Yokohama to converse with Dr. T this week but that doesn't mean I've managed to shake the Woody Allen persona.

My husband of 18 years -- thanks for remembering our anniversary, Sandy! -- rode his bike home from the ship the other day. I did a double take Woody would have appreciated when Mike came clomping through the door. "What's that thing attached to your helmet? A sideview mirror?" How fetching.

Yesterday I found myself standing in line at the post office three weeks before Christmas tucking a Power of Attorney for Cats into an express envelope addressed to my darling daughter. That's right: a Power of Attorney for Cats. That was strange enough but then the clerk only had 18 two-cent stamps when I needed 50 and, rather than just getting a page of stamps from the postal clerk standing three feet to his left, he suggested I go back to the end of the line three weeks before Christmas and try my luck with another clerk.

And I'm still scratching my head over Erin crediting me with playing a part in creating the whimsical Willy Wonka Meets Dr. Seuss gingerbread house. Erin has known me her entire life. I'm flattered she thinks me capable of drawing a straight line but, really, what was she thinking?

The sad fact is my teammates sent me on a spying mission simply to keep my mitts off our entry. When I reported back that Team #2 had crafted a nifty tree to accessorize their house, my teammates handed me a dixie cup and told me to have at. They had no intention of placing my tree anywhere near our house during the judging phase.

Gosh, today's calendar shows another holiday luncheon. There are bound to be crafts involved and no one will want me on their team. Usually this doesn't happen until December 15 but I seem to have outdone myself this year.

You Should See Him Butter Toast

The USS Blue Ridge returned to Yokosuka Thursday afternoon, a day ahead of schedule.

The curio cabinet is no longer listing in a corner of the living room, half on and half off the rug. The metal glider that's been sprawled on its back between the gingko trees since the last typhoon is now safely ensconced on the patio. The printer is back to fulfilling its purpose in life, the aroma of fresh coffee wafts up the staircase to tickle me awake at the crack of dawn, and -- here's the best part -- both parents attended the quarterly conferences with Matt's teachers and the one with the better hearing assured the other on the way out the door that a teacher really did say, "Matt is one of those rare students who uses his time wisely and completes his homework during study hall."

He also managed to hang a few pictures before he left for Korea this morning. Maybe now you understand why I did not presume to hang any pictures in his absence . . .