I don’t open presents before Christmas Day.  Since I’d be on the road then this year, I just took a few presents to open in whatever motel I’d be staying at when the day rolled around (you can see them here) — the rest I left at home to open when I got back.  It would still be Christmas, of course, which doesn’t end until Twelfth Night, 5 January.

The haul was rich.

Mary and Paul sent me two choice Criterion titles:


Adrienne and Bill sent me this terrific Robert Crumb art book — for adult intellectuals only:


J. B. sent me a CD of new tracks he’s been recording over the past year in Nashville — they might be available on iTunes before too long and if so I’ll let everybody know, because they are magnificent:


My sister Anna sent me a gift basket of treats from North Carolina — which are mostly eaten and so can’t be photographed:


My sister Libba sent me a supply of smoked salmon and tuna, which her family makes in Upstate New York — the best in the world:


Jack White sent me a complimentary LP from his label Third Man Records, as a beau geste because a larger set of LPs I’d ordered was delayed:


My cup runneth over — thanks to all!

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