Christmas has come and gone, and I confess to a sense of child-like disappointment. Anticipation of the day, of the time away from the courts, of time with family, made the past few weeks fly by in a mad whirl of excitement. The day after Christmas is sort of like a hangover: sure, I’d do it all over again, but I always forget the sense of having been left behind once the holidays pass.
I was a romantic fool this year, buying my wife diamonds for the first time ever. It was a huge risk, actually. Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but my wife is very much a woman of strong, if sometimes decidedly unromantic, tastes. You won’t see roses in our house, ever. She doesn’t like roses. Orchids? Now that’s a different matter.
