I am just in from spending Christmas day with my family.
There were about twenty of us, with eight of the contingent
made up of children age six years and younger.
And one large, happy dog name of Jackson, who followed
the children around during their processions and chase scenes,
or who appeared, sitting politely in front of the adult humans,
when he thought he might like a bit of summer sausage
or turkey to find its way to his mouth.
After a year of watching what I put in my mouth,
I feel as though I ate more today than I've eaten since Christmas;
I am uncomfortable, bloated and not at all satisfied.