“I used to have Santa and the whole coal thing, but between Wade and their father, the little shits get whatever they want. They no longer feel like they need the fat bastard!”

“I wish we could get a real tree," Bug says. "Then at least we'd have one real tradition, since that whole Santa thing's a bust. I mean, if parents are gonna make up a cool story, at least do it realistically. Like, have the guy use FedEx or something-no way reindeer can fly with all that weight.”

“I just want to be me—I just want to be useful and … content. I want to stop wondering if I’ll ever feel whole and just be whole. I want to have a purpose one that I can look at without feeling like I’m less than I was.”

“Getting back to the issue of the child," Tina said, harshing our buzz as visual, "I really think you should reconsider. He—"The phone rang. She picked it up, glanced at the caller ID."We're kind of busy," I said, a little sharply. The phone was a whole thing between Tina and me."But—""If it's important, they'll call back.""But it's your mother."I practically snarled. The phone, the fucking phone! People used it the way they used to use the cat-o'-nine-tails. You had to drop everything and answer the fucking thing. And God help you if you were home and, for whatever reason, didn't answer. "But I called!" Yeah, it was convenient for you so you called. But I'm in the shit because it wasn't convenient for me to drop everything and talk to you, on the spot, for whatever you needed to talk about.”

“But here is the thing. When he gets on me, I suddenly feel I am fat. I feel am terrifically fat, so fat that Rudy is a tiny thing and hardly there at all.”

“Best of all are the decorations the grandchildren have made ~ fat little stars and rather crooked Santas, shaped out of dough and baked in the oven.”