End of the Year Ceiling Report

I will be ending this year by applying a little touch-up paint to the trim on the master bedroom ceiling, a project I have been working on intermittently since May. In simple terms, this brings the project to completion. Three weeks from now, near the end of January, carpet is scheduled to be installed, and we will move back in to reclaim the room as ours again.

I am sharing two photographs of the project:

Finished Ceiling

Ceiling at the end of May

—Mitchell Hegman

Selling the Goods

One of the weirdest aspects of getting old is watching actors and celebrities, who were the heartthrobs of my generation, now rundown and appearing in commercials for items such as hearing aids, portable oxygen, Medicare enrollment, reverse mortgages, and prescription drugs for senior ailments.

—Mitchell Hegman

Big-Ass Squeegee

You have likely heard the saying: “People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.”  The meaning behind this adage is that people who have faults should not criticize other people for having the same faults.  I have an altered and somewhat workmanlike version of this adage that goes like this: “People who have glass sunrooms need to also have a big-ass squeegee.”  I can attest to this as someone with such a sunroom.  The curved glass is especially good (bad in barroom terms) at collecting dust and grime.  I am regularly forced to grab my telescoping squeegee so I can clean the exterior glass.

Given relatively warm temperatures yesterday afternoon, I trotted outside and washed the windows for the third time since August.

My Big-Ass Squeegee

Looking out from the Inside

—Mitchell Hegman

Huckleberry Bursts

In matters of cooking, Desiree rarely misfires in any manner.  The dishes she prepares are delicious and handsome in presentation.  Yesterday, however, Desiree experienced a mishap in the oven when baking some huckleberry-stuffed pastries.  The puff pastries more-or-less exploded in the oven, or, as she put it, “They burst!”

“Well,” I suggested upon seeing the goodies for myself, “let’s just call them huckleberry bursts.”

I must say, no matter what they look like, the huckleberry bursts taste fantastic and I am not opposed to Desiree making another batch in the same manner.

Huckleberry Bursts

—Mitchell Hegman

Disconcerting Things

Following is a list of disconcerting things:

• Finding just one leg of a big, hairy spider on your bedsheets.
• Learning that your bathroom weight scale has been registering 10 pounds too light for several months.
• Discovering that the "next generation" music storage and playback device will not import your music library.
• When the abrasions finally heal on your right hand but you burn three fingers on your left hand.
• Reading the nutrition facts on a bag of potato chips.
• Possibly ancestry.com.
• Trying to open the plastic bags you pull from the rolls in the grocery produce section.
• Shopping for jeans and discovering that most pairs are sold with holes in the knees just like the jeans you are trying to replace.

—Mitchell Hegman

1720

I have posted a close-up photograph of the touchscreen in my car’s instrument panel. In looking at the picture, you will see that song number 1720 of 1720 total is playing. This means I have listened to all 1720 songs (in shuffle mode) while driving around in my car. In a touch of irony, the song “One” by U2 is playing.

In terms of time, the 1720 songs on my device equate to something over 4 solid days of music listening. The photograph was taken on December 24th. I am now wondering how many weeks or months of driving it took me to play through all the songs again. My best guess is that it will require at least 2 months of normal driving for me to get through all the songs. Hopefully, I will pay enough attention to have that answer in a couple of months.

—Mitchell Hegman

Christmas Day Report for 2023

Today, we celebrate the birthday of someone special: my neighbor, Kevin. Here in my corner of the world, we are not enjoying a white Christmas. I can report, though, that a half dozen snowflakes fell on my back deck the other day. After bouncing off the planks of my deck, the flakes chased themselves into a swirl before melting. In wider news, a new world record has been set for breaking the most pencils. A man from Idaho, appropriately named David Rush, snapped 63 pencils (one at a time) in 30 seconds. Also worth noting, the Cozyberry Querencia Candle Warmer Lamp, a sort of scented candle without a flame, has been named as one of the best gifts for Christmas 2023 by Rolling Stone Magazine. With that, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas.

—Mitchell Hegman

Brown Dot

I purchased a can of brown (satin finish) latex paint for the trim on my master bedroom ceiling. After mixing and shaking the paint, the paint store salesman opened the can and applied a small dot of paint to a label on the lid. The idea is to help me identify the color within the can. The dot is really not necessary for me – within a few minutes of opening the can, I typically have paint all over the outside.

Probably, I should not be allowed to use brown paint in a world of white walls and lightly-colored floors. While I am pretty good at masking off and covering things around my intended painting 'target,' I am often a bit sloppy beyond that. Today, I am posting a photograph of the pale brown dot followed by a photograph of the can after a few minutes of my painting.

Let’s just say it’s pretty obvious what color of paint is in the can.

Brown Dot

Paint Can After a Little Painting

—Mitchell Hegman

Lost in Space

I have been soaking in my hot tub under the early morning stars for the last few days. As I peer up at the firmament, I keep thinking about how small Earth is in the great wash of stars in which we reside. We humans might be a pretty big deal here on our tilted blue planet, but even our planet seems insignificant in the bigger scheme of things. With this in mind, Carl Sagan, the late astronomer and commentator, asked NASA engineers to train Voyager 1 spacecraft’s camera back on our planet one last time and capture an image of Earth from the edge of the solar system. On February 14, 1990, just beyond Neptune, at a point some 3.7 billion miles from the Sun and 13 years after launch, the craft took a photograph of Earth that has become known as 'The Pale Blue Dot.'

I have written about The Pale Blue Dot previously, but as I stare up at the stars more recently and consider all the crazy things we humans do to one another here on our little blue planet, I feel rather lonely. Gaza, political discord, Ukraine, and on into our own collective infinity of absurdities: What can I do to fix them? I, too, am little more than a pale blue dot.

Pale Blue Dot

—Mitchell Hegman

Waking to Aches and Pains

I understand and largely accept that, by wading through old age, you should expect a few aches—maybe a bum knee or a stiff arm at a minimum. But those sorts of ailments are far too ordinary for me. I start with pain right from the get-go. When I first wake in the morning, my eyes hurt. I have some drops that relieve the pain fairly quickly, but I wonder: What sort of bad body engineering or lifestyle choices account for your eyes hurting?

—Mitchell Hegman

Our Winter Solstice

Today marks the winter solstice. This means the North Pole has reached the maximum tilt away from the sun, and we will experience the shortest day of the year. Montana lies on the 45th Parallel North, which equates to the sun being visible for only 8 hours and 46 minutes on this day. By contrast, this latitude provides a visible sun for 15 hours and 37 minutes during the summer solstice. This is pretty weird stuff for Desiree, given that she lived most of her life near the 10th Parallel North—scarcely off the equator—where the days and nights are very close to equal in length for the entire year. Interestingly, Desiree struggles more with summer’s late evening sun than winter’s early darkness.

The Winter Sun (January 13, 2015)

—Mitchell Hegman

Hearts

I am not convinced that love is everywhere, but I do find hearts all over the place. By way of illustration, I have collected several heart-shaped rocks from the ground near my house and added them to my collection over the years. I have seen heart shapes in roving clouds, in puddles of rainwater, in the dappled light below shade trees, and so on. The latest heart I found is in the form of the receptacle port for plugging in power to Desiree’s heated hand warmer. This is a pretty weird place for a heart, I suppose, but I believe you should note a heart whenever and wherever you find one.

Another Heart

—Mitchell Hegman

That’s Funny!

“Before you marry a person, you should first make them use a computer with slow internet to see who they really are.”

—Will Ferrell

“I love mankind; it's people I can't stand.”

—Charles M. Schulz

“I don't need you to remind me of my age. I have a bladder to do that for me.”

—Stephen Fry

Shopping Locally

I am not a discerning shopper; I typically do not juggle prices or wade through reviews to get what I need. If I really need something, I go to a place where I can find it and grab it.

Yesterday, my pneumatic pin nailer failed me spectacularly enough that I ran into town to see if I could purchase a replacement—one capable of shooting 2-inch pins. In the end, I shopped at four stores. In each store, I found plenty of boxes of 2-inch pins, but none of the stores stocked nailers to shoot them.

Upon returning home after a frustrating hours-long shopping trip, I found the nailer I needed online in under one minute.

—Mitchell Hegman

Disorder in the House

It’s the time of year when our weather reaches a near-permanent chill, and Desiree and I can no longer obsess about whatnots outside. Instead, we create disorder in the house in the form of jigsaw puzzles. A bit less than a week ago, I dumped a 1000-piece shaped puzzle onto the dining room table and began sorting pieces. At present, it looks as though something exploded there, though our progress is clear.

The puzzle has also disrupted our daily migrations through the house. Neither Desiree nor I can walk near the table in our daily wanderings without stopping to press a few pieces into place. Working on puzzles is a strange obsession. I think it would be fun to see a hyper-fast time-lapse video of the two of us piecing the jigsaw puzzle together.

The Eagle Puzzle

—Mitchell Hegman

Found and Kept

We are not quick enough to name the shooting stars

and our early morning stance is not always handsome

I mispronounce your words and you mangle mine

Sometimes we bump into walls

Sometimes our flag is a bit rumpled

But this matters not, my dear

because we found love and kept it

—Mitchell Hegman

Possible

•  It’s possible that people who are impressed with themselves are truly impressive, but unlikely. 
• “X” represents everything possible.
• A device that enables humans to communicate with animals through a sophisticated headset may be possible, but cats will most certainly ignore it.
• It’s possible to play a game of horseshoes while in the eye of a hurricane but not necessary.
• Whenever possible, plant a tree.
• Not has nothing to do with possible, and yet they are often forced together.
• Remember that thing Albert Einstein said: “Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Big Frost

On a drive home from town yesterday, I traveled our country road just as the morning sun prodded a heavy fog to lift, leaving behind a brilliant display of rime across the entire landscape.  From the tallest trees to the smallest tuft of grass, everything shone brilliant white.  I stopped at several points on my drive just so I could prance through the tall whitewashed grass. 

The Road Home

Old Glory

My House

—Mitchell Hegman

Final Sprint (While Dripping Paint)

We are in the final sprint to complete our new master bedroom ceiling and room refinish. Remodeling projects, being what they are, mean that a final sprint equates to at least two weeks. I need to paint the ceiling and walls, apply trim, and have new carpet installed.

Yesterday, immediately after the drywall finisher sanded his work, I rolled a primer coat onto the ceiling. In the previous two days, I cut and whitewash stained the window trim. In doing both of these tasks, I was naughty and did not try to protect the carpeting (since I will soon be tearing it out). I get what I suspect is a perverse kick out of dripping paint and stain on the carpet.

Whitewashed Trim

Ceiling (Primer Coat)

—Mitchell Hegman

Almost Snow

I like a white Christmas, but so far, our only snow fell and melted away several weeks ago. A little snow-like stuff fell yesterday morning, giving me hope. Unfortunately, the "almost" snow proved entirely incompetent and failed to stick anywhere. It was only snow while in the air, and the white specks melted away the instant they touched the ground, cars, trees, buildings, or anything else.

A myth persists that Eskimos have dozens of words for snow—hundreds of words, some people suggest. But there is no good word for what fell yesterday. Almost snow. That’s what we got.

—Mitchell Hegman

Spaghetti Doubts

There are times when I harbor doubts regarding fairly common advice. A perfect example has to do with cooking spaghetti. Plenty of people have told me that a good way to confirm your spaghetti is fully cooked is to fling a piece of it against the wall. If the noodle sticks, your spaghetti is done.

Really?

The first time somebody told me this, I thought to myself, "Wait, I have just been told to throw food at the wall as a test for proper cooking. How scientific can that be?" Frankly, the idea sounded suspiciously like something one of my drinking buddies concocted at the end of a three-day runner in East Helena, Montana. But, at the same time, I would never refuse something as grand as being sanctioned to throw food.

Whether throwing spaghetti is an accurate assessment for proper cooking or not matters little to me now. It has become a ritual. Yesterday, I cooked some spaghetti for lunch. Did I fling some against the wall to test it? Of course, I did. At the same time, I have discovered that spaghetti will generally not stick if flung from all the way across the kitchen, no matter how long you cook it. There is apparently some kind of distance limit. Maybe some smart university researchers should look into that.

Spaghetti Stuck to my Kitchen Cupboard

—Mitchell Hegman

Where There is Smoke, There is a Muzzleloader

Sometimes, having a little junk around is handy. One day, you might, for example, decide you’re going to practice loading and shooting a muzzleloader and need a target. This very scenario played out yesterday when Tad St Clair dropped down to the lake to practice with his Grandpa Leo’s black powder rifle. Fortunately, the area immediately surrounding Leo’s old shop is replete with a virtual moat of “goodies” surrounding it.

Kevin and I joined Tad in shooting the muzzleloader. Before doing so, we located a coffee can and an old bed spring in the moat to stand upright and fix the target can in place. The time and effort required for loading the old-timey firearm make it abundantly clear that when hunting (Tad’s ultimate goal), you want to place an accurate first shot.

I am sharing a photograph of Tad and Kevin loading the rifle, followed by a brief video of me touching off a round. Happily, my ball put a decent hole in the can.

Loading the Rifle

Me Shooting 

—Mitchell Hegman

A New Curse Word

I need a new curse word, one that applies specifically to the frustration of having a pneumatic pin nailer jam when you are pinning in place the final piece of trim for a project.

This very thing happened to me yesterday while I was nailing baseboards around the new flooring in the master bedroom’s walk-in closet.  I had only three more pins to set when the nailer jammed.

I issued a pretty expansive string of standard curse words when the gun jammed, but that didn’t make me feel any better.  And even clearing the gun after a few minutes of squinting and fiddling didn’t feel particularly satisfying.  Only a new curse word would help.  I want a word that incorporates a hissing sound as well as the letter “z.”

Something zesty like "fizzit!"

      —Mitchell Hegman

A Concurrent Project

I really enjoy using part of my house as a staging area for my remodeling projects.  Dragging in all of my tools and materials, and then making a far-flung mess in my living spaces feels naughty, maybe a little rebellious.  As part of the master bedroom remodel, I am installing vinyl flooring in the walk-in closet.  Yesterday, while the second coat of drywall mud dried on the ceiling above, I hauled my table saw, an assortment of hand tools, and new flooring into the bedroom and started on the flooring.

A good mess, this.

Construction Staging

Closet Floor

—Mitchell Hegman

My Contribution to Christmas

Let it be known that I have made my contribution for Christmas this year. More precisely, I have helped with decorating. Luckily, I had my phone in hand and was able to fully document my doings. If you examine the foreground of the photograph I have shared, you’ll see a red ornament on the carpet. Somehow, the ornament released itself from Desiree’s fireplace decorations and fell to the floor. Doing my fair share, I picked the ornament up off the floor and set it on the mantel so Desiree can put it back where it rightfully belongs.

You’re welcome, Christmas!

Ornament Down

—Mitchell Hegman

Ceiling Update, 12-6-2023

Yesterday, a drywaller applied perfatape along with the first coat of joint compound on the sheetrock for the new ceiling in the master bedroom. I considered taping the ceiling myself, but thought better of it after watching a few how-to videos. Drywall finishing is not the type of work that fits my personality. I would fiddle and fuss with the mud too much and likely drive myself nuts fretting about the end results. I can handle watching everything dry after someone else has done the work.

Taped Ceiling

—Mitchell Hegman

Crazy Cat People

We have all heard stories of the crazy cat lady. You know the lady we are talking about. She lives with 23 cats. She dresses some of the cats in doll clothes and allows all of them to eat at the dinner table with her. The only question is, was she crazy before she started cohabitating with cats, or did the cats push her over the edge?

Along with recalling the crazy cat lady, you likely recall the cliché “dogs have owners, cats have staff.” It’s true. As someone who lived with as many as three cats at a time, I can attest to the fact that cats will tweak your brain over time.

When I lived with three cats, I sometimes felt like nothing more than a meow-operated canned cat food opener.

Turns out science might be able to prove that cats drive us crazy. A recent review of 17 separate studies conducted by researchers from the University of Queensland, Australia, found that individuals exposed to cats before the age of 25 had approximately twice the odds of developing schizophrenia. The research team used meta-analysis of existing research from 11 countries, including the US and UK, published over the last 44 years.

Scientists postulate that the link to mental disorder is likely due to a parasite found in pet cats called Toxoplasma gondii, which invades the body via a bite. The parasite can then enter the central nervous system and affect neurotransmitters in the brain, leading to personality changes, psychotic symptoms, and psychiatric disorders such as schizophrenia.

Soda

—Mitchell Hegman

Source: https://www.dailymail.co.uk

A Septic System Tell

In poker, a 'tell' refers to any behavior, mannerism, or physical clue that a player exhibits, consciously or unconsciously, that gives away information about the strength or weakness of their hand.

If you live in the country and are the (not necessarily proud) owner of your own personal septic system, you need to watch for certain tells regarding the system's proper function. It's pretty simple, really. If you start detecting the odor of sewer gas and/or water begins pooling around the surface of the ground where your tank is located, you have a problem.

As it turns out, we have that “pooling thing” occurring around our septic tank. This being December in Montana, a spreading sheet of ice has appeared. I first noticed the ice yesterday. Upon further investigation, I discovered the ground squishy and wet near the tank risers. I will call to get the tank pumped and the system inspected first thing this morning. Normally, I am not too excited about getting the septic pumped. Today is an exception.

Septic Tank Overflow

—Mitchell Hegman

An Empty Update

Our master bedroom is empty for the first time in 32 years. I first moved furnishings into the room a week before Thanksgiving in 1991. In the time since, the bed has been replaced once, and dressers have shifted about, but the room has never been completely empty. It’s strange now to find the space empty, as the room is bigger than I recall, and oddly, the years of memories fade into the blank space when it's empty. When I enter the room now, I am swathed in light.

The empty space serves a purpose. Over the next few weeks, I will finish the ceiling, repaint the walls, apply trim around the windows, and change the flooring. This, my mission in light.

Empty Master Bedroom

—Mitchell Hegman

Breaking in a New Pillow

I have written previously about my habit of sleeping with two pillows. One is for supporting my head, and the other is my “hugging” pillow. Throughout the night, the hugging pillow is fluffed, punched, hugged, smothered, wrestled with, and sometimes tossed out of the ring. I honestly have trouble sleeping in the absence of my hugging pillow.

Sadly, my hugging pillow has reached the end of its days. It’s worn out. Last night, I tried a new pillow for the first time. Not good, that. Breaking in a new hugging pillow verges on becoming a full-on bout in the ring. Last night, I got tossed from the ring.

The new pillow is a bit larger than my old one and isn’t quite squishy enough yet. I woke up several times with the pillow on top of me, the pillow having won a round. Late in the night, I woke only to find my left arm entangled in the pillow and completely dead with numbness. I lay awake nursing my arm for several minutes.

I am going to flop down for another bout with the pillow tonight, but only after I deliver a few good punches to it. I plan on starting on top and remaining there this time.

—Mitchell Hegman

Mark Twain

Mark Twain, born Samuel Langhorne Clemens on November 30, 1835, in Florida, Missouri, is considered by many to be the father of American literature. His novels "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" and "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" stand tall in this landscape. He was the best humorist of his day and, in my estimation, remains one of the greatest humorists of all time. He managed this while enduring incredible sadness in his personal life. Twain and his wife, Olivia Langdon Clemens, lost three of their four children: Langdon, Susan, and Jean. The tragic loss deeply affected Twain, influencing some of his later works and contributing to his reflections on life and mortality.

We whisked by Twain’s birthday a couple of days ago. Today, after reflecting on him, I thought sharing three of his quotes might be a good way to start the day:

 - "The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why."

 - “Behind every successful man, there is a woman – And behind every unsuccessful man, there are two.”

 - “Last week, I stated this woman was the ugliest woman I had ever seen. I have since been visited by her sister, and now wish to withdraw that statement.”

—Mitchell Hegman

Two-Part Post

Part I:

Both life in general and specifically watching Celine Dion sing became notably easier for me when I simply learned to accept that some people have inordinately long necks.

Part II:

Post-norovirus motto: Embrace sanitizer.

—Mitchell Hegman

Planting Photographs

Stumbling, as I am, from a bout with norovirus, I have been cat-napping at various points throughout the last two days. Naturally, this has allowed me to catch my share of weird dreams. I am particularly irritated that I woke before one dream properly ended. In the dream, two children and I were digging holes in the earth and planting photographs we liked so they would grow into something beautiful. The children preferred photographs of smiling people, and I preferred sunny landscapes. I want back in that dream so I can see what the photographs grew into.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Rapid (Often Violent) Weight Loss Program

I just lost four pounds in less than two days—thanks to a rapid (often violent) weight loss program known as norovirus. If you are unfamiliar, norovirus is a highly contagious virus that causes vomiting and diarrhea. It sometimes goes by the garish nickname “winter vomiting disease.”

The nickname fits this ailment well. I actually expelled my contents from both ends simultaneously. Effective, but not pretty. Norovirus, in addition to being highly contagious, has no treatment other than letting it run its course. The illness comes on quickly but slow-walks away when leaving.

I don’t recommend norovirus as a means for controlling weight. In fact, I don’t recommend it for anything. Furthermore, I will be hiding out for the next few days to ensure I don’t spread the dread disease.

—Mitchell Hegman

Another Guinness World Record

Years ago, I tried my hand at crocheting. My efforts lasted for something around thirty to forty seconds. Between the hook and the yarn, I was all thumbs. I learned at that time that I can unravel with the best of them, but stitching is not my thing.

For me, thirty or so seconds of crocheting proved enough for a lifetime. Not so for Alessandra Hayden of Gig Harbor, Washington. Back in early November, Alessandra shattered the Guinness World Record for the longest marathon crocheting. Okay, “shattered” may be too strong a word for a crocheting record. Let’s go with “piffed.” She piffed the world record.

Anyhow, to reach the new record, Alessandra worked her yarn for 34 hours, seven minutes. After her long hours, she produced a blanket. That’s at least more rewarding and practical than breaking the record for placing snails on your face. If you want to take a run at that one, you will need to place more than 43 snails on your face and keep them there for 10 seconds.

I am a little interested in that one.

Source and Photo: UPI

—Mitchell Hegman

Time Remaining: 1:15

I have an old-timey electric range in my kitchen. It's thirty-two years old and equipped with the most rudimentary electronics. The clock/timer will display only one function (either clock or timer) at a time and is controlled by two buttons and a small dial. Simple.

Yesterday, I decided to stop baking and pull a small batch of tater tots from the oven with the timer still showing 1:15 (one minute and fifteen seconds). I quickly pressed the timer cancel button, which issued a beep, but 1:15 remained on the digital display.

I pressed to cancel again. A tone issued once more, but the display continued to show 1:15.

I pressed the button again with the same result. And again. And again.

Just about when I was about to lapse into a full-on conniption fit, my eye caught the time on the nearby microwave: 1:15.

My Old-Timey Range

—Mitchell Hegman

Dream On

A friend of mine recently sent me the link for a video featuring Mr. Chicken performing the Aerosmith song “Dream On.” The video is silly and irreverent and pleases me way more than it should. Today, I am sharing the video here. Take one minute and twenty-seven seconds out of your day to enjoy a rubber chicken’s rendering of a rock classic.

—Mitchell Hegman

SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSTsZFbN8rg 

Gizzard

 I like to say “gizzard.” It’s a word I could have invented as a kid. For one thing, it has two Zs, which is exceptional. I also appreciate the way the syllables work on your tongue. “Gizzard” very nearly sounds like a curse.

Anyhow, I got to say the word to Desiree while talking about cooking her first-ever turkey. “Desiree,” I said, "I am going to help you avoid a rookie mistake. You need to take the giblets out from inside the turkey – you know, the gizzard and neck and stuff. A lot of people don’t know they are inside and leave them there when they cook the bird. It’s kinda funny.”

Desiree thought for a moment and then asked, “Why do they give them to you with the turkey? They don’t always with chickens.”

“Beats me. Maybe just to confuse us. But I like a gizzard now and then.”

There. I got to say “gizzard” twice.

—Mitchell Hegman

Approaching Thanksgiving

As we approach Thanksgiving, I think about something a friend of mine did. He happened to attend an Independence Day celebration on the 4th of July with a married couple from Great Britain. As fireworks exploded into bright colors in the sky above, my friend lightly elbowed the English gentleman. “I don’t expect you have much of a celebration for the fourth where you come from,” he said.

Short answer: “Nope.”

While Independence Day celebrates our original colonies becoming a separate nation, Thanksgiving celebrates the gathering together of friends, neighbors, and family. A host of countries have similar celebrations. And, frankly, I think any country that doesn’t have a Thanksgiving Day (or equivalent) should adopt one.

This Thanksgiving will be Desiree’s second one since arriving here in the United States, and she is fully invested. We will be hosting a small gathering. Desiree will cook her first-ever turkey. And, in a perfectly Filipino twist, our house is already decked out for Christmas.

—Mitchell Hegman