The sacrifices we make

Ah, family. The people we love. How do we show this love? By making sacrifices. Like turning off "Battlestar Galactica" because my husband didn't want to watch it in order to watch "Six Days, Seven Nights." So far, I'm not impressed with the trade. Indeed, Derrick has just informed me (since I slunk away to write this) that the movie may be getting worse. Sigh. I didn't realize Harrison Ford made bad movies.

Sometimes my family, at least, provides enough entertainment to make things worth while. Last night we were supposed to have a New Year's party (planned by one aunt and uncle without clearing said party with the hosting aunt and uncle), but then, since three of the four of the children of the pair planning the party couldn't come, they canceled. Again, without informing the aunt and uncle actually hosting. Good times. I didn't hear about the cancellation either because I've misplaced my phone (something I'll have to remedy before too long), and I have to say that worked out wonderfully--Derrick, Sylvia and I showed up for the party my other aunt and uncle were throwing and had a blast. Sylvia didn't stay up for midnight (thank goodness!) but was the life of the party before she fell asleep. She seemed especially fond of my uncle, body-slamming him whenever he was silly enough to lay down.

This morning dawned far too early for my tastes. The same uncle hosting the party also hosts a traditional ice fishing trip on new year's day. It started about 12 years ago, one year when he took me and my uncle down to Fish Lake and fished through some incredibly clear ice. I've had some good days ice fishing, but that one was superb--gorgeous, not too cold, and good fishing. Anyway, my uncle has a bad cold starting, he only hosted breakfast (though he was sorely tempted to join, as was obvious from him showing up in his normal ice fishing attire and doing everything he could to facilitate the trip), but the drive is long enough that breakfast started at 7. Silly me, I started reading "Catching fire," the sequel to Suzanne Collin's "The Hunger Games" (a book I enjoyed more than I expected to) and didn't go to sleep until too long after toasting in the new year. Which all means I should be tired and should go to sleep, since it's a barely reasonable 11:00 almost, but then I remember--there's a silly movie on in the next room--one that will likely keep me awake with its obvious ridiculousness and numerous opportunities to make fun of it.

Ah, Derrick informs me the pirates (yes, there are pirates--near Tahiti, no less) just blew themselves up. Perhaps the end of the movie is at hand.