You won't believe this, but I found stollen at Abela's grocery. So I am sitting down to the computer with my (third) slice of stollen to write a piece on my grandmother's family. No one is born an anti-nazi, Gottfried said last night, and maybe that's how I'll start it. If Slate or The National doesn't publish it, I'll post it here. I'll pay myself a dollar a word. Heck, $5 per word.

John is still at work, and Iola has just gone to sleep: it's me, the computer, and the stollen. An overeating procrastinator's dream...

I said I'd take a picture each day but I didn't. Here are two from yesterday and one from today.

               

I wish everyone the happiest of christmases!