Merry Christmas, friends! I'm writing this is a dark hotel room on the North shore of Long Island as Annie naps. She's a good traveler and has taken to her Pack 'n' Play like a champ. In a bit we're heading over to Matt's aunt and uncle's with the rest of his family for lunch and a mid-day hike.
Speaking of Christmas, a large package (which I believe Matt had shipped to his work) showed up in our car among the wrapped presents the other day as we headed up to my parents' place. It's addressed to Annie and upon asking him about it, he said, "Oh yeah, I got Annie something," with no further explanation, although adding, "Don't worry; I'll say it's from both of us." Um, thanks. Boyfriend went out and bought his little girl a gift and refuses to tell me what it is! Suck up. I find this whole thing very suspicious. And irksome. Particularly because I didn't really get the kid anything - she's a year old! Girl doesn't know Santa from the Easter Bunny.
Anyway, at the hotel's continental breakfast this morning Matt and I met a man who lost much of his home to Hurricane Sandy and FEMA has put him up in these temp digs since then. Describing the mountains of paperwork, red tape and formalities to get his house back in order (fortunately their home wasn't condemned, but the first floor had to be entirely gutted) made me - even further - realize how fortunate I am. Cheesy, I know. But it was a beautiful little reminder from a stranger on Christmas Eve.
Much love to you and yours this holiday season,
Kathryn, Matt, Annie, and Penny (who I'm sure is enjoying a swanky doggie spa-like day at my parents, complete with gourmet food, lots of doggie treats, and river walks)