Woke up to the quiet hours of an early morning where early risers aren't yet heard and time is not yet known. Curious, and slightly worried of over-sleeping, I craned my head around to see the clock--ten more minutes of dreams permitted; so I rolled against my honey and dozed. When the song played, I hit snooze, and by the second sounding was ready enough to face the day. Slipping out of bed, I tucked the covers back behind me to let the Bear snore on. Up the stairs drifted the delicious smell of pancakes browning as I pulled my hair up in its final touch-up. Breakfast was brisk, but enjoyable, the three of us pouring syrup over morning chatter. The drive off was a race, pulling into the dazed reality of work. I pulled on my apron and friendly face, getting to the register where I would be poised like a British soldier for 8 hours on. Not much excitement to be mentioned. Six o'clock at last rolled round; a race back home to the feeding table. Well, pop, we got our hot pastrami tonight. And afterwards we dressed the tree--dad fitting the angel and assuring she didn't sky-dive, mom froofing, me impaitently stringing ornaments. And the Dillard's department store tree was finished, adorned with the company of "Delila" and christmas songs playing on an old radio. Rather than hot chocolate, we sat with ice cream in the end, admiring our work and returning to worn-out conversations that never get old. CK returned for dessert. Having nothing better to do than enjoy one another, a board was laid and we played a lazy game of Scrabble--yes, CK won. The night grew old before we wished, but such is life, and so we retired. Regardless of the pains and strife, in the end, it was a perfect day. Carrie