"I don't know. Maybe the Chancellor's ice cream, or some of the clothing on the ship. Maybe just every time the amorphous Christmas week rolls around, we could make those little decorated eggshells and hang them from the Beer Tree."

It's strange, trying to approximate a normal life again in the throes of an abnormal situation, with abnormal histories. It feels more like playing a role than anything, but she doesn't know what else to do with herself.

"They look like quite the little posse. Does the boy get confused with Stacy's weather?"