Amazingly, even though it doesn't often snow in Los Angeles, Christmastime still seems to come every December...Almost like clockwork. Who would've thought? I know, I know, it's crazy to think that an area totally devoid of the most reliable indicator of 'Christmastime' could actually partake in the jolly fun that the rest of the country experiences, but it does happen...And, here we have the photographic proof:

Rocky sitting, quite unhappily, on Santa's lap.

Were it not for the balmy breeze pushing through the palm trees just outside Santa's shack, you could've fooled us into thinking we were sitting pretty, smack dab in a snow filled, twenty-below zero, winter wonderland.

Soon after the new year, the family high-tailed it to the Big Apple for a whirl-wind four day trip. Rocky did a fine job piloting the plane as this picture is evidence of. Yes, we initially overshot JFK by about 50 miles, and, yes, the landing was a bit bumpy, but we got there in one piece and had a helluva time anyway.

Back in the abysmal wasteland of modern urbanity that is Los Angeles, Rocky enjoyed himself at the park by exposing his belly to any and all passer-by.

Strangely, the Rock lost a pound and a half after falling ill late this winter, so, per doctor's orders, the little man was put on a temporary high-fat diet. Here we witness Rocky enjoying his first ever chocolate shake, courtesy In N' Out Burger.

Rocky and his momma, at the Grove. Who could ask for more?

Here's Rocky and me sitting in front of a tiled wall at LAX that I mistakenly thought served as the backdrop to a pretty famous photo of Brian Wilson and his friends, circa 1967 or thereabouts. Look it up on the intertubes. I was wrong.

Rocky and his puppy, Lupe. Two peas in a pod.

Rocky at the zoo.

Rocky and Mark Gifford (that's the actual name the genius known as Xavier Roberts bestowed upon this particular cabbage Patch Kid), chillin', in a box, and looking pretty content to boot.