Boxing Day

Pablo's in love with his new skeleton gloves. Jo Ann found these today at Disneyland. A great find—we've been looking for something like this for P for donkey's years....

Not sure why I titled this post 'boxing day.' Maybe cos a few English people wished me a happy Boxing Day earlier today? Not even sure what Boxing Day is. A day to put things in boxes? To us strange LA transplants with thin blood, today is Cold Day. To me, it's wonderfully cold and damp. I say wonderful cos I actually like it. Don't miss the winter wonderland of my hometown Milwaukee—multiple feet of snow, constant wet shoes, or scraping ice off the windshield—but I miss the idea of it. Temps in the low 40s and a few days of rain create a simulated winter and a nice change of pace from the usual sun, sun, sun and 90+ degree temps we've been having since Al Gore invented global warming.

Inside our warm house, we've had a very low-key day. Grady and Jimmy left for a week skiing at Mammoth. Jo Ann's mom, Patricia, came over from the hotel to hang with Pablo. When she got here, I went for a ride in and around Griffith Park on my new bike (a present from Santa), and then out to lunch with my friend Justin. Jo Ann and her dad, Harry, took Opal, Christopher and Alex on their first trip to Disneyland. Pablo and I slept in (7:30), and stayed home. He would have have loved to join his cuz crew on the D-Land day, but he was comfy staying home. His white blood and platelet counts are probably at zero today. There are tiny pin-sized purple bruises all over his body: on his right earlobe, around his eyes, and on his right forearm. The best thing for Pablo at this point in the cycle is to—literally—sit on the sofa and watch TV. Any time Pablo is on his feet, he is running (he has forgotten how to walk, I swear). And if he's running, he can fall. And if he falls, he get a gnasty gnarly bruise or worse.

After a long nap this afternoon, Pablo is full of energy at 9:22 p.m. Jo Ann and Opal are in bed. Pablo announced that he was going to stay up with me. Things get kind of strange when he and I stay up late. Serious clowntime. So far, we have taken about 50 off-the-wall pics on my computer. He's smiling or laughing hysterically in every one. Now he's counting to 1,000 and telling me I have to get off my computer...so he can type on it.