It’s also how long it’s been since my last post. I suck. I mean, that’s the suckiest of the sucky. My God I can really hate myself with the best of them sometimes.

But I digress.

In other news, Oracle Bones is an awesome book by Peter Hessler, worth your time and even your dime maybe but I’m more a library card user frankly and rarely drop dosh on books.

Hessler is a freelance writer who’s written for the New Yorker, the New York Times, and National Geographic as well as completed another book called River Town. China was never a must-see destination on my list prior to reading this book. Hessler’s interviews with everyday Chinese from the poor to the middle class, intellectuals tortured during the Cultural Revolution, intellectuals who toed the party line, all of them are written with an empathetic yet contextual angle. I was sad to get to the end of it and am now jealous of those about to start it.

In other other news, I spent 44 hours on Nantucket with my wife Jaime while she was there for work – secret Dr. Hauschka work involving unguents and normalizing day oils.

ACK sure does love its pineapple accents.

Pretty Jaime.

Ah, the Christmas card shot, if we were Christmas card people.

Pretty Jaime and…my God.  Is that Peter Flynn?  I could have sworn he was still married to Laur-.  Oh, wait a minute.  That’s his daughter.  Never mind.

I realize Jaime has the same expression in this photo as in the earlier one.  She’s an easy laugh, that one.  Pre-shutter.

Pensive Jaime and the First Congregational Church.  No laughs because contemplative thought isn’t funny…unless you’re Thomas Merton.

G’night.

“My sister said, ‘You’ve got to talk to Mom; she’s not moving,’ ” Mr. Robinson recalled. He said his mother was utterly unswayed by Mrs. Obama’s description of the exciting new life they would all lead in Washington.

Mrs. Robinson, a retired bank secretary who ran the 50- and 100-yard dashes in the Illinois senior games well into her 60s, has always prized her independence.

“She doesn’t want grand; she doesn’t want great,” Mr. Robinson said. “She would much rather stay home.”

I live with my mother- and grandmother-in-law half the year and I have to admit, I enjoy it.  It’s like having company, the nice kind of company, in the house all the time.  We all have our rooms we can retire to if the company is staying too long or it’s just time for a break.  But otherwise, it’s lovely to come home to people curious about my day or who have just whipped up a tasty batch of kale salad.  (It’s actually better than it sounds.  Recipe to come.)

Of course, Jaime’s mom and grandmother are rather singular in their beings.  I’m very lucky in my in-laws.  Did you ever read the wonderful book series by Armistead Maupin, Tales of the City?  Jaime’s mom Marybeth is a lot like Mrs. Madrigal, except minus the “used to be a man” part.  And Jaime’s Gram is a more elderly version.