Scots Bearing Gifts --and Other Joys

Last week’s highlight (besides the inauguration, of course) was a short visit from my old pal Karen during her annual American homecoming pilgrimage from Glasgow. We usually see her around Christmas, but this year’s trip was timed so she could hit the Mall for some Obamamania. As for me, there was no way I was going to brave the freezing breezes and inaugural frenzy of DC with two little kids, so had to be content sitting in front of the television weeping tears of joy.

Karen and I were housemates in Virginia in the mid-90s until I moved to New York and she put her dual citizenship to work and decamped to the UK. She’s a striking, rubenesque gal with a robust, sometimes brash personality to match. She can be a little off-putting to some, but I have always loved her adventurous spirit and thoughtful, conscientious side. We had some wild times in our twenties. I have to laugh when I think of us partying with rockstars, clubbing in London, etc. Such a far cry from my own daily grind these days. Karen’s still a part-time party girl, but has settled down considerably with an office job and an adoring (and adorable) man in her life.

Anyway, it’s always nice to have a visit from a prosperous European. She took me to dinner at one of the swankier restaurants in Loserburg, absolute heaven after being stuck in the house for two weeks. And on top of that, she brought me the latest Boris Akunin (not yet out in the States) and lots of Cadbury. Trying to picture myself lying in bed reading a mystery novel while eating bonbons. Have yet to make it happen though I have been getting in a little Fandorin fix every night before passing out from exhaustion.

In other news, I’m happy to report that we got the Christmas tree down before February. Henry took it better than expected. All that’s left is a pile of pine needles and shards from a broken Christmas bulb, which I’d better get off the floor before Coco eats them.