Seasonal Waypoint

As I was idly flipping through the mail that's accumulated in the hall at Orgle Manor in my absence this week, I stumbled across a Christmas card. It features a photo of a family on the front. The family's names appear on the inside of the card, together with a local address and a suitably non-committal greeting for the season.

I have no earthly idea who these people are.

Actually, this is not a-tall an uncommon occurance 'round here. The Missus is the out-going, social half of our team, while I am the misanthropic curmudgeon. Indeed, when I'm actually recognized around town, say at the soccer fields, a birthday party, or some art or social function, I am pretty regularly labelled as "Mrs. Llama's Husband."

(I'd tell you all about the card itself, which is a doozy of its particular type, except that I don't want to get in trouble. I'm pretty sure these people are not friends of ours, but I don't know what position they hold in the Missus' vast, interlocking webs of what Meyer Wolfsheim called "gunnegshuns" and I don't want to give away enough detail to possibly identify them to any other of the Missus' gunnegshuns who might happen to wander in here.)