We’re still test-driving Max. “He is cute,” Kris admitted last night, as he snuggled next to her to watch Amelie. The other cats — Toto, Simon, and Nemo — aren’t convinced.

Actually, Toto is a little less growly at Max than she is at Nemo, though she’s still growly. Simon and Nemo were both cranky initially, and they’re still concerned, but their fears seem to be waning. Last night Max made blind jump onto a chair where Nemo was sleeping. Though Max stepped on him, Nemo maintained composure. Then, while we were getting ready to sleep, Max was stalking Simon’s tail. Simon was sleeping on a corner of the bed, and as he dreamed his tailed flicked gently. This was too much to resist apparently, and Maxie pounced. Simon snapped awake, but he didn’t growl or hiss — he simply glared.

Max loves to play, and I think that eventually his brothers will be pleased to have him around. Especially Nemo.

My wellness program is going well. Despite a week of temptations — some of which I succumbed to — my weight remains unchanged and I feel good. (The real benefit of this program is how I feel, actually, and not how much I weigh.)

I’ve re-discovered something I already knew: it’s a mistake to have anything tempting in the house at all. For example, I bought some hard candies for the Roth family Christmas on Saturday. Only a few got eaten, so all Sunday I munched on the leftovers. I have no self-control. This is my first real sugar lapse since starting six weeks ago. I intend to simply toss the candy when I get home tonight. Yes, it’s a waste of a couple bucks, but so what? The benefit is worth much more.

As I mentioned, we had Roth family Christmas on Saturday. It was actually rather nice. Since Tony moved his family to Bend, we don’t see him them very often. It was good to spend some time together. (This must be what it’s like for normal families — when you spend most of your waking hours with your siblings, holiday gatherings can be rather anticlimactic.)

I was startled at how much Tony’s oldest son, Michael, resembles me at that age. He’s in second grade, and looking at him is like looking at one of my school photos. I know lots of other kids, and like most of them, but looking at Michael is different. It’s eerie. It’s like looking at future J.D. Or past J.D. Or something.

The Wii was a hit, yet again. That sports game Nintendo included was a stroke of genius. It’s so easy that a four-year-old can play. Well, okay, not quite. But a five-year-old could. And a four-year-old can with the help of a parent. Until he’s bored and lays down in the middle of the floor where everyone else is trying to play tennis!

The problem with being a professional blogger (yes, I did just write that) is that there’s never any time off. A free Sunday afternoon? Should I get together with friends? Head down to Zion for sing-your-own-Messiah? Watch movies with Kris? Nope. Time to whip up a few entries because I know that I won’t have time during the day this week — I’ll be off playing Santa Claus with my customers.