What's in a name?

I don't speak photography jargon. But I was playing with my aperture, whatever that is, on my new gadget and took a picture of my sparkling cup of coffee. Because every morning, my coffee sparkles, it calls to me.

And everything else fades into the background until my coffee can be ingested and the motors in my head start turning and I can see clearly again.

And move onto the finer things in my life. There is one thing finer than fine coffee. Well, two more and soon to be three.

Houston, we might have a name. No, it ain't Houston. We're going to play with it for a week and see if it sticks. Dad and Jem were sitting down at the dining room table looking over the periodic table in hopes of finding a name. Argon? Hydrogen?

When desperate times call for naming your kid after fruits and vegetables, we need to go back to basics. That's what we liked about Jack. How about Staphylococcus?

My heart melted today at the cash register at Target and I cried. I could blame the pregnancy hormones, but I'd rather give credit where it's due. This one is due to the beauty of the Christmas spirit.

Random Act Number Three: Teeny, tiny, last minute decision. Jose, Jack and I stood at the register checking out our many bags of frozen fruit, cart half full for a family of three and a half. This old lady was standing in line behind us with a Christmas card. Normally, we'd let her skip us, but that cashier had already started ringing us up. So I snatched her card (a bit aggressively) and handed it to the cashier to scan with our things. Then handed it back and said, "Merry Christmas." She started crying. And hugged us both. Then I started crying. And it was sweet.

This, by far, is the best Christmas tradition.

Jack is very organized. He puts everything away, tucks in all the chairs, lines up his puzzles before playing with them. It's unusual. But cool.

Lately, he's been putting away his chocolate milk cups. In the pantry, the bar cabinet, the pan cupboard. We're finding them everywhere, just not soon enough. Not until we catch him pulling them out a day later at his leisure for a sip. Yuck.

Tonight starts another Christmas tradition. The boot. We're putting Jack's boot in his window sill for one of the thirteen Icelandic Santas to fly down to sunny Florida and leave him a treat. One will come each night until Christmas. Pictures to come!