Frost frames memories of holiday seasons past. This was my first Christmas diner in Ballard since 2002. Same house — same menu. My former in-laws were there, although the days of Mrs. Johnsen cooking the Christmas meal ended long ago. She used to feed us all; then she couldn't feed herself. Parkinson's is supposed to be a "progressive disease," like materialism. Someone neglected explaining this to Mrs. Johnsen. Today she feeds herself, and while she held my arm to walk, the wheelchair remains folded and unused. Aunt Margit was there, her traditional joyous and enthusiastic self. Anea and Isaac were in Texas this year, so Jordan and I ate her portion. My beloved former wife has a boyfriend who got her a great Samsung HD flat screen TV for the holidays. I've never met the fellow, but he has excellent taste in gifts, and we all enjoyed his generosity. Couldn't resist watching "Starting out in the Evening" again.
After the Johnsens trundled back to assisted living, Jordan and I went to the theater to watch Tom Cruise try to kill Hitler. It's is difficult to have a nail bitting thriller when you know before you walk in the door that Hitler doesn't get killed. Well, eventually Hitler died of a gunshot wound to the head — self-administered. Why the hell should Adolph Hitler get the pleasure of being the guy who killed Hitler? So many people far better than he deserved the honor.
Now it is Tuesday night. Tomorrow is New Years Eve. The snow is melted, but a torrential rain storm is about to soak the Jet City. Jordan walks to work at 2 A.M. I have popcorn, soda, L&M 100's and plenty of writing ahead of me. A deadline looms on the Gregorian horizon. Yes, I have the status symbol of 2009: a publishing contract.
No, I won't be back in L.A. in time to do a live broadcast Saturday, but count on a fresh TRUE CRIMES show Saturday January 9th.