Zaq wants to know how we spent our merry weekend. Unlike the island inhabitants of Southeast Alaska, we had varied cultural obligations to attend to. In Petersburg, Alaska, the most one could wish Black Peter to bring to celebrate the borning of the Kristkind would be a sack of oranges. Among the inmates such a lucky soul would walk tall and keep his teeth in his mouth. A simple tradition for a simple folk.

In Portland, we have more complicated and sophisticated social requirements. Friday night saw the use of the good china -- a Seven Fish Christmas Eve dinner was laid out for ourselves and our guests. Actually there were only four or five fish or fish-like items in the meal, but we do our best to follow the papist strictures. Other vaguely Italianate comestibles made up la comida and merry tales of Christmases past were related by the witty and urbane tablefolk.

Afterwards attempts were made to play Pictionary, in accordance with the Uniform Commercial Code. Apparently a simple concept, in execution the rules present no linear game-play, nay not even unto the seventh reading and the ninth reading of the rules. So that biznatch was abandoned, until such time in the future when someone among us figures out how to play the game.

But in our dark winter we sense a flicker of warmer times and more rewarding games -- among the presents unwrapped was a set of wicket lights. So this summer games of croquet will continue into the evening and night. Thanks to Mother of The Fyd.