Clan Mondo is lounging around the Mid-Century Mondohaus this afternoon, having done some of the celebratory thing this morning. Mrs. M and I awoke around 8:30 (I had stayed up last night watching the Bengals lose), and the Spawn got up about an hour later. So things got started earlier than last year, but not as early as they once did — perhaps one of these days, in a future era with grandkids, I may have to recalibrate once more, but not yet.
All and sundry were well pleased with Santa’s efforts. Highlights included the Spawn’s receipt of some works by A.S. Byatt and one from Alan Moore, while Mrs. M received (among other things) a blast from her past in the form of a large tin of a favorite candy of her Appalachian youth. As for me, things were (as is both typical and welcome) media-heavy. On the musical front, I picked up a prog-rock classic and the new release from my psych-pop faves in Cotton Mather, along with the first two albums from the best guitarist my high school ever produced (Boone County represent!). In print, I snagged several more of Joe Lansdale’s Hap and Leonard books, along with Savage Art, Robert Polito’s award winning bio of Jim Thompson. And on video, I’ll be entertaining myself this evening with the Criterion release of The Friends of Eddie Coyle. Later, I have a set of ten films noir to work through (which will be nice, as I’m teaching that this spring and haven’t put my syllabus together as yet.)
We then adjourned to the kitchen for a breakfast of biscuits and gravy, and I followed that with a nap for a full set of Sybarite points. Then I spent a large chunk of the afternoon talking to my dear friend Michael Dearing, and now it’s time for supper. It’s been a terrific day, and I hope yours has been as well, and that it has been a blessing to you even as the faintest reflection of the blessing we commemorate from some twenty centuries ago.
Merry Christmas, everyone.