Today began our usual Xmas trip to San Jose. A relatively late flight gave Amy and me extra time to tie up loose ends, which came in handy when I spent half of Christmas assembling our new bed from Ikea only to find out IT WAS THE WRONG SIZE. (My weasely solution was to exchange our mattress and convince my longsuffering wife that a smaller bed would just mean more cuddling. She was not impressed but let me live.) Thankfully, cramming one mattress into our teeny car, driving it 20 minutes, swapping it for a smaller mattress, cramming that into said teeny car, and driving home was relatively painless.
In the early afternoon, we headed to the airport, breezed through security, and soon enough we were in the air. The flight was uneventful, with the only hiccup being the B.O. of the crunchy granola guy sitting next to me. Amy and the kids were immersed in electronics while I was engrossed in the new Steve Jobs bio (of which I downed about three-quarters during the flight). By the time we landed, my dad was more than halfway to us and we got back to their house at a decent hour, our arrival made sweeter by the provision of both chicken soup and sushi. It was great to reunite with my mom, too, who waited up to see us and then insisted we go to bed since we all looked tired. (Sounds like a mom, no?) Indeed, it was sweet to hit the hay.