It’s surreal, that’s the only word. 6.45 on Christmas Eve – everyone is gathering at the farm, and I am lying on the sofa. Late this afternoon I lit the menorah and listened to most of Handel’s Messiah at top volume, celebrating both of my halves. At one point during the Hallelujah Chorus my speakers crackled as if they were going to explode with so much magnificent sound. More friends waded through the slush with presents. Now I’m going to eat my chicken soup and listen to the last bit of the Messiah – “I know that my redeemer liveth.” I don’t know if my redeemer liveth, but I do know that spending the evening with George Friedrich Handel by the light of menorah candles is heaven.