May next year be the best 2014 ever...

We had a wonderful Christmas: all of our offspring assembled in Santa Barbara for a traditional celebration. As family purveyor of heritage and folklore, I insisted on conventional preparation..

“But we always make sugar cookies for Christmas dessert,” I explained. Patiently.

“If I stop to make sugar cookies now, I won’t have time to cook Christmas dinner,” Nazy replied. Impatiently.

“I’ll treat the family to pizza,” I proposed. Stupidly.

Nazy, zealously creating new traditions, bought an electric train to circle the Christmas Tree. A long, long time ago (in a galaxy far, far away) I had a simple O-gauge Lionel electric train. (Simple: an engine, three cars and a circular track.) The train that Nazy selected was a little more complex:

“It has an oval track,” I explained to Darius - who was helping with the setup. “Not just a circle.”

“The tracks are small, Dad.” Darius was trying to get the engine wheels into alignment.

“Everything is small, Dar. I think it’s HO-gauge.”

“HO? Dad. Does that mean the Hard Option?”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“Hand me the tweezers.”

In fact, the train was (quite) a bit smaller than HO-gauge. Setting it up under a tree that had been harvested from Canadian tundra in June turned out to be a problem. Easily dislodged fir needles fouled the track as effectively as a concrete barrier. (Atmospheric vibrations generated by acoustic rings of a mobile phone could trigger a fir-needle deluge.)

Darius and I decided if we could get the entire train to make three trips around the oval, we would declare success. The engine derailed half-way through the third circuit. “Close enough!” I exclaimed.

The Hawaiian Family Martin (1999)

The family photo is also traditional. This year...

“We’re going to do a professional family portrait,” Melika explained. “I’ve arranged for everyone to get Victorian era costumes. We’ll be shooting on the grounds of the courthouse and in the mural room. We have a long table. I’m thinking of reproducing the last supper....”

“There were no Victorians at the last supper.” I interrupted.

“It’s a concept, Dad. So..”

“I want to be Jesus,” I interrupted. Again.

“ ... and we’ll need some props.”

“I’ve got 30 pieces of silver.”

“Dad. Let Mom pick your costume.”

“Okay, but I want one with a halo. And remember, Melika, the last time we did a Christmas costume shot, you complained. You said that the Swiss Family Martin photo made you look like you weighed 500 pounds.”

The Swiss Family Martin

“Mom! Can you ask Dad to cooperate?”

In preparation, Melika chose “Victorian” props from our apartment in Santa Barbara. This caused some quiet reflection..

“Does Melika think we’re living in the last century?” Nazy asked.

“Of course not!” I asserted. “Victorian is two centuries ago,” I thought. “At least she doesn’t think we’re fossilized.”

The photo session was a major event. In addition to the professional photographer and the costumes, Melika had arranged a hair dresser and make-up artist. Aware of the absurdly high standards of decorum and dignity that are requisite features of family photos (see samples) we are anxiously looking forward to the final results.

Christmas Day dawned: “Sugar cookie free,” I muttered, (insufficiently) under my breath.

“I will make a batch tomorrow,” Nazy claimed.

“We always make a double (double) batch (batch),” I explained.

“Cookies are not good for you, Dan,”

“Hey Mom!” Diplomatic Darius interjected. “Why not make a batch and a half?”

[Nazy was assembling ingredients the next day. “Hand me two eggs,” she commanded. Fully aware of the recipe, I selected three eggs. A glaring contest ensued. I lost.]

The Martin Family 2010