Ray has decided to go light on Christmas this year.

Mother is off tooting around the Carribean. Fine. So he will just stay put, won't angle to be invited anywhere. No tree, no caroling, no solitary Yuletide dinner at Howard Johnson's. Let Miss Basnight lure him down to the parlor for a ritual cup of eggnog and be done with it.

And so Christmas comes and goes. Ray stays out of public view and makes himself reread War and Peace. Then, a solitary New Year's eve wraps it up and the holiday season is officially over and done with, thank God.

"It's going to snow again," Juanita mutters, seconds into the new academic year.

Sure enough, snow falls hopelessly on Applestock--almost a foot of it. Then more, foot after foot after foot, it seems. Ray buys a set of snow tires for the Cherokee, but it's a pathetic gesture. He has no place to go. . . .

[To my dear readers:

Well, folks. . . it does seem that inclement weather, holiday wear & tear, "bad habits," and lingering bouts of CCSFS (Chronic Culture Shock Fatigue Syndrome) have temporarily swamped me and my elves here at Applestock '66.

Apologies galore to the faithful & thanks for the cards and letters & even the pissed-off e-mails. I've triple-searched for an appropriate holiday post & think I've found one; not perhaps the most spectacular single moment in the book, but, on my solemn word, I guarantee at least 3 paragraphs as "appropriate-to-the-season" as a bipolar sugarplum fairy. And coming up VERY soon!

WATCH THIS SPOT!

—WMH]