Robert Lynd (Irish Essayist and Journalist, 1879-1949)
TIME: 5:36 PM
PLACE: Uncle Albert’s basement
SUBJECT: The extended family
I woke up this morning with a pinched nerve in my right shoulder blade. Owie. I took some Aleve and lay on the heating pad for an hour. It felt a little better, but I’m still having trouble turning my head to the left. Looks like I’m making a call to the chiropractor tomorrow.
We went to my uncle’s house (my mother’s brother) for a New Year’s Day get-together. We play what we call “The Present Game”. Everyone brings at least 3 gifts per player. We roll dice – a double allows you to choose a gift, if you roll a triple, you get to choose two. When all the gifts are distributed, we set a timer and roll to steal. Same rules. Then we open. The gifts are usually pretty crappy. Think 2 pistachios lovingly wrapped in a small jewelry box, or scratched off losing lottery tickets taped to the bottom of a large shirt box. It’s goofy and can get cutthroat for certain gifts. We’re dorks.