When I went to bed last night, I knew I’d have a little trouble getting up this morning. Not that that’s anything usual, of course, but today started out at an even slower pace than usual. That’s okay, though, because what I needed to do today was a very specific set of tasks that will prepare me for the Boss’s return to his desk tomorrow. That’s when it will all hit the fan, and I’ll have to be at my best from the start. (Well, it could happen.)

I could wish I had one more day to decompress, or to ease back into the grind, but this day was almost it anyway. It was as good as I could have hoped for, at least. There were no particular crises, and I managed to accomplish the few key tasks that will get me ready for the big decisions the Boss and I will make tomorrow. Plus, it was Boxing Day, and I had English football playing on the box all day while I went about my business.

The best solution I could think of was to write a rather long-winded note to the Boss, outlining where I think we are and what I think we need to do. This tactic has its pitfalls, because (a) as we know, the Boss doesn’t like to read anything longer than a greeting card, and (2) as we know, he likes to find fault with any plan that he didn’t come up with himself. Still, I expect to muddle through tomorrow somehow. There’s no choice, really. We’re up against the deadline, and there’s no time for wiggling.

The most amazing present I got on Christmas this year was from Mom. She had some old home movies from the 1940s put on a DVD for Suzanne and me. There are scenes of the ranch where Mom grew up, and movies of her grandparents, her parents (my grandparents), and many of her aunts and uncles and cousins. The movies are from before I was born, but most of the people were still around when Suzanne and I were growing up.

I never met my great grandfather, though. He died a year before I was born, and this was the first time I got a chance to see him in anything other than a grainy still photograph. My grandfather died when I was nine, but I remember him exactly as I saw him in the movie. But before this I never got to see my mom when she was 16. I’d heard stories, and now I know they’re true. She was really something.

The movie is only about thirteen minutes long and covers a period of about four years, in brief sketches, but it’s kind of incredible to sit in my living room and watch those scenes on my own TV set.