December 23rd:
My mother's flight arrived early. Who's flight arrives early? How do they take a shortcut? Anyway, I got to the airport right on time, and she walked up to my car, looking intense, and as I got out of the car, her eyes got wide and she took a step backwards into traffic.

"Mom, what is it?"

"Your hair. It's...purple. REALLY purple."

It's true. I have purple hair. I had told her this over the phone and even sent a picture to avoid exactly this scenario.

I sighed and chose to let it go, hauled her enormous suitcase into the back of my station sagon, and drove her back to my house.

I asked her what she thought she might want for dinner, hoping to hear the magic words "Taco Salad"(see previous entry for reference here) and she just looked at me.

"I'm not really hungry now," she said.

"No, but what about later? Isn't there anything you might want?" I was digging here, desperate for my prediction to come true.

"I can't think of anything."

"You have no suggestions whatsoever to help me in planning dinner?" I actually started to grip the couch cushion rather hard, needing vindication.

She leaned forward a bit and said, in a quiet voice, "No. Nothing."

I freaked. I jumped up off the couch and yelled, "YOU DON'T FEEL LIKE SOMETHING LIGHT AND EASY?! LIKE A TACO SALAD?!"

"I knew that's what you wanted me to say, but I didn't want to give you the satisfaction. I know I'm predictable. You don't have to make such a big deal about it."

She laughed and I laughed and we decided on Taco Salad for dinner, because, you know, it's light and easy. And we had purchased a chub of beef, now just sitting in our fridge.

Later, my sister came over after attending her annual work holiday party. As she walked in the front door, she mouthed to me, "I'm drunk." Fantastic.

It was low key, really, that first day. Mostly just sitting around, sipping tea, catching up.

I offered to help transform the futon in the living room to a bed, but mom just wanted to sleep on it like a couch. She got all tucked in and had her tea cup and her heating pad and her Iris Johansen mystery there with her, but as soon as she was horizontal, she was out like a light.

I puttered around in the kitchen for a few minutes and then put my pajamas on, washed my face, and went to bed. I turned off the space heater and the lights and got nestled under the covers. First day done. No incidents to speak of.

Then I heard it. A snorting, rooting sound coming from the living room. I sat up. It sounded like a javelina rummaging through an overturned trash can. I heard it again, but it was more pronounced. I put my feet on the floor.

"Your mom is snoring." Chris said from behind his Game Boy. He was propped up on our bed playing a strategy game.

"That's my mom? Good Lord. Should I turn the heater back on? That might drown out the sound."

"Um...yes, please."

And so the heater stayed on all night, everynight, to cover the sound of my mother, the javelina.