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Rory has returned from Christmas in London to find that, a week later, the holiday hasn't even happened in Stars Hollow yet. Man, the time change is really confusing. Lorelai has held up Christmas for Rory, so they decorate and try to do all their traditions while simultaneously laughing at Christopher's attempts to work himself into their celebration. Meanwhile, Lane is really, REALLY pregnant, and raging. She needs to rock and rounds up the band, but all the guys want to talk about is the babies. For once, Zach is the reassuring voice of reason. Luke shows up at the Inn to ask Lorelai a favor: he needs her to write a letter of reference to use in his court appearance to decide April's custody. She agrees to do it, but is really nervous -- she wants to make it great, but doesn't really know what to say. Most significantly, she keeps the whole thing from Christopher. Rory worries about that, but Lorelai assures her that everything will be fine. When they run into Luke and April at the mall, Lorelai is reminded of how sweet Luke has always been to Rory. This helps her to write the letter, and as her little family fakes up some Christmas cookies in the kitchen, she goes wistfully to into the snow to mail it off. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Aaaaand, we're back! The previouslies remind us that everybody in Stars Hollow is having all sorts of problems. Lane's pregnant with twins! Luke's daughter is moving away! Lorelai doesn't want to have a wedding with Chris! Chris is mad about it! Rory is wrapped up in some juvenile emotional mess with Lucy because she's known Marty for years, not months!
Wow, that was a long hiatus. Especially after only ten episodes and even more especially because nothing really significant happened in those first ten episodes to move this seven-year-long story in any direction at all.
We pick up with the gang after the Christmas holiday has passed. Lorelai is pacing around her house, repeatedly looking out the window, when Rory finally arrives, returning from London. "The Redcoats are coming!" Lorelai cheers, running down the steps. "The Redcoats are coming!" Gigi chimes in. Christopher cannot wrestle Gigi into her coat fast enough to catch up with Lorelai as she skips out the door. "I'm so mad at you!" Lorelai calls as Rory gets out of her car. Rory points out that that's not really the friendliest home-from-the-airport greeting. Lorelai's mad, though, because Rory ruined her whole plan: she wanted to pick her daughter up in the traditional Gilmore style with a fake chauffer sign, coffee, and flowers: "Why would you mess with my sense of self?" Rory says that her car was parked at the airport, so she didn't need a ride, but her mother spurns this logic. They have a several-minutes-long conversation about the car park. Lorelai jokes that, whatever the case, she thinks Rory's driving after spending so much time in London was probably risky, and hams, "You might get confused and forget what side of the road to drive on." Rory: "Yes, it was a near escape."
Christopher and Gigi have finally arrived at the car, and cheerily welcome Rory home, complete with Gigi attaching herself to Rory's leg as four-year-olds are wont to do. "I was thinking," says Chris, "all that time in England and you might forget which side of the road to drive on." Lorelai fixes him with a cold stare: "Hey. Don't steal my material." Chris is offended: "That's my jokes. If you just made it, you ripped me off." Lorelai's jaw drops: "I ripped you off? That's like saying Lenny Bruce ripped off Carrot Top, or Woody Allen gets his material from what's-his-name, the guy with the watermelons." Good one, Lorelai. Rory has to interrupt to tell them that, as hilarious as it is, they're both actually ripping off the guy from the airport car park, who made the joke hours ago. As the happy family goes inside, Rory makes a sad face: "Aw, you took the Christmas lights down." Lorelai says she hasn't even put them up yet: "I saved Christmas for you." Rory is amazed. Lorelai hasn't had an ounce of Christmas. Please tell me Gigi was still in France until yesterday, then, because...how crappy is that? The kid is four! And Rory was having Christmas elsewhere! And, yes, I know this show is called Gilmore Girls and is about Lorelai and Rory and their amazing super-strong bond from hell, but does Christmas need to be postponed for a twenty-two-year-old who is spending the holiday in the Christmasy-est city in the world? I guess so, because Lorelai says she was so adamant about saving it, she didn't even let it snow: "I didn't let any Christmas happen. I grinched it up so hard!" There were no presents, no tree, no cookies, and "no egg, no nog." Rory is forced to apologize for any accidental Christmas she celebrated, and says that she is now ready to do it up for real. "So, you stopped the snow?" she asks. "Yeah," Lorelai confirms. "I did an anti-snow dance that was humiliating and arduous, but I had made a promise to my daughter." Rory: "Humiliating?" Lorelai: "Two words. Coconut bra."
Back from commercials, everyone is hauling in their discount post-Christmas trees. Christopher is a bit skeptical at the selections they've had to make: "You don't think our trees are...maybe a little homely? I'm just saying. Our trees are not classically good-looking. If you were to look up 'trees' in the dictionary, you would not find one of these fellas." Lorelai, offended, asks the obvious question: "Why would you look up 'tree' in the dictionary?" Five minutes in, and we're past the best joke of the season. Rory defends the Charlie Brown trees, pointing out that these trees have character. They've survived long winters and forest fires and floods and maniacal woodpeckers. Yeah, well, this show has survived Chad Michael Murray. Who's tougher? Christopher says that getting seven trees for the house was crazy. "Dad, we have to have at least one tree in the kitchen," says Rory. "Yeah, Dad," poor Gigi chimes in, trying to be a Gilmore and being summarily ignored. Rory and Lorelai congratulate themselves on their tree bargain: a buck a tree! That is pretty excellent, truth be told. A few years ago, my mother bought a tree for her house that completely died before we all made it home for the holidays. So, in desperation, she rushed out and bought, like, the last tree she could find on Christmas Eve. The top had been completely chopped off, resulting in a total height of about four feet. Never, ever have I laughed so hard as when I went into the living room to find this pitiful tree as majestically decorated as the one at Rockefeller Plaza. It was leaning hard to the left and the angel on top was cringing with embarrassment. Mother tried to play it off like nothing was unusual, but when she practically had to give me CPR to get me off the floor, she gave it up: "Al, it cost TEN DOLLARS. I was DESPERATE." Frankly I am surprised that she has not adopted the Gilmore way of thinking as outlined in this episode. Rory and Lorelai are so proud of their dollar trees, no matter how pitiful, that they are thinking maybe they'll celebrate Christmas late every year. They'll have to be careful it doesn't catch on, says Lorelai, so that the post-Christmas Christmas tree prices don't get driven up.
Meanwhile, during all this chatter, Gigi is rummaging through ornament boxes. Lorelai picks up an old handmade one, happily telling Gigi that it was one Rory made back when she was little. "That's nice," says Gigi, kind of sad, wondering why nobody seems to like her. "Hey, look at this!" Lorelai says. "Santa's costume! Wow, that's seen better days." Now this, Gigi finds interesting: "Why do you have Santa's clothes?" Ooops, Lorelai has to backpedal. "Because," she hedges, "I used to...do Santa's dry cleaning." Precious. "Wow," says Gigi. As Christopher brings in the kitchen tree and Gigi gallops off, Rory updates her mom about London. She says that she and Logan made up over the whole Marty/Lucy debacle. Logan apologized for blurting out the truth the way he did, and admitted that he was a little jealous about Marty. Plus, Rory goes on, she had to admit that a lot of it was her fault, too, for getting suckered into the charade: "I don't blame [Lucy] for hating me." But...why on Earth would Lucy hate Rory? Yes, it was crappy that Rory did not step up and tell the truth when Marty did his weirdness, but more than anything it was just weird, not evil. I love how they made such a HUGE deal about Logan and his truthiness before we went to hiatus, and now it's just this brush-off "oh, yeah, he apologized." Whatever.
Chris comes in from the kitchen and marvels over all the Christmas decorations he just saw three minutes ago. He grabs up some mistletoe, ready to hang it in the doorway. "Oh," says Rory, "that's not where that goes." She says that they tape it up to one of the blades of the ceiling fan upstairs: "That way, the kissing is more of a sport." For once, I am on Chris's side when he makes his skeptical face. "That's a tradition?" he asks, and Rory says that, yes, their traditions are very important to them. My question is, is this really the first Christmas Christopher has ever spent with the two of them? ["Based on what we've seen on the show, yes. Based on what we know about the character...yes again." -- Wing Chun] He's never come over even once on Christmas Day to see the kitchen tree and the ceiling-fan mistletoe? Christopher wonders what other traditions he's in for, and Rory lists some: "Well, on Christmas morning we put red and green M&Ms in our cereal." Christopher says he's down with that one. They also hang their stockings up on the banister to avoid a repeat of an unfortunate stocking-fire incident, as well as heading to Weston's for candy cane coffee and cookies they bring home to decorate. "And then on Christmas Eve," Lorelai concludes, "we leave the cookies out for Santa's reindeer," because, as Rory adds, "Santa prefers gum." Christopher says that, while he is excited about all this, he figures that since this is their first family Christmas, it's time to start some new traditions. Does he not know these chicks at all? For example, he says, he's bought them all new stockings. From a shopping bag, he pulls the most elaborate, ridiculous, plush, embroidered designer stockings ever beheld by the human eye. Lorelai and Rory recoil. "But we have stockings already," Lorelai says. Not noticing her cringes, Chris goes to hang up the new stockings. He adds that they should all go caroling, and immediately gives us an ear-splitting sample, singing the refrain from "Angels We Have Heard On High." My very favorite moment comes when he says "in ex Celsius." (This is my tone-deaf husband's favorite Christmas hymn, and I have spent a great deal of time trying to coach him through the Latin. Here is a tip from me to you. Say it like this: "Een eggshell cease." There! See? That Voice degree wasn't for nothing. In your face, Mother.) As ridic as Chris is, it bugs me that when he tries to wedge himself into Rory's and Lorelai's lives, they won't even crack the door for him.
Later, at the Dragonfly, Luke has arrived to pay a surprise visit to Lorelai. Our beloved Michel is less than thrilled to see him, sneering, "You. I thought we were done with you." He reluctantly calls Lorelai up to the front and turns back to face Luke: "Well, this is awfully awkward. We should make some sort of conversation." Luke sighs. "I see your sense of style has not changed," says Michel with disdain. "I've often wondered, does someone in your family own a flannel company?" Awesome. Luke spits out a curt "nope," and after a pause, Michel admits that this small-talk thing isn't going to happen: "Let us just stand here and let the awkwardness wash over us." Luke: "Fine by me." Finally, Lorelai arrives, surprised to see Luke, and puts Luke and Michel out of their misery. She and Luke retire to the sitting room, where he tells her about Anna's decision to move to New Mexico with April, and their resulting court date. Lorelai (whose hair looks fantastic) is extremely sympathetic. Luke tells her that he needs a character reference, and asks her to write one for him. The one Liz wrote, he says, was very sweet but weird (of course), and he needs another one. "I know it's an awful lot to ask," he says, nervously, but Lorelai doesn't even think about it. "Yes," she says, to Luke's extreme relief. They awkwardly stand up to say goodbye, and when Luke shakes Lorelai's hand as he exits, her face looks so very sad.
The day, at the Inn, Lorelai is taking a shot at the letter and cannot get off the ground. She goes into the kitchen to get more coffee and commiserate with Sookie, who agrees that it has to be hard to do something like this: "I mean, it's Luke, and after all you've been through, and having to dig up all those feelings for him..." But Lorelai insists that's not what it is -- she just wants to write a great letter for Luke to help him in the custody arrangement: "I want it to be something amazing and powerful. Like Gettysburg Address powerful, or 'I have a dream' powerful." She figures she'll just look some of those speeches up online, pop the name "Luke" in at the appropriate spots, and be done with it. "Sure," says Sookie. "I don't think anyone will notice." Lorelai goes back to her place by the fire, where the pressure continues to get to her. She engages in all the classic writer's-block procrastination methods: strawberry juggling, pen tricks, excessive coffee drinking.
At the diner, Keiko Agena is walking around with a huge balloon under her sweater. Come on, people. There has never been a pregnant woman who looked like this. It's almost cute, really -- that's how fake it looks. I sort of like it, even. I mean, Lane's supposed to be pregnant with twins, which is ridiculous to start with, so why not send it right over the top? Lane carries some food to some customers, who immediately engage in humanity's most annoying pastime: goofily chatting up pregnant women with insanely familiar questions. "Is it twins?" asks the lady at the table. "It's gotta be twins." "Is what twins?" Lane snarls back. "Aren't you...?" the male customer chimes in. "Pregnant?!" Lane yells. "You think I'm pregnant? Oh, yeah, because it's not acceptable in this society to be a plus-sized woman who happens to carry her weight in her belly!" The poor customers backpedal, but Lane takes a cleansing breath. "Of course I'm pregnant," she says, slamming down their plates. As Lane attacks the diners at the table for over-tipping her -- "I'm pregnant, not homeless!" -- April comes through the door. "Oh my gosh," she says to Luke as Lane lumbers by, "Lane is gigantic." Luke suggests, like a good parent, that she not mention this to Lane. He is alarmed to hear that April biked over, unbeknownst to Anna, who thinks she has gone to the science museum with her friend Melissa and Melissa's dad. She flimflammed the whole shebang by backing out at the last minute on the real museum trip by telling Melissa's dad she couldn't go because she'd gotten "the curse." Which is perfect, she says, "because you know how awkward men are about menstruation!" Poor Luke. He worriedly tells April that this is not going to work, and that he's going to have to take her home. April gives him the hard sell, begging to stay and, over his protests, handing over his Christmas gift. Luke is swayed by the old daddy-daughter spell, and takes her upstairs for lunch.
At the CrapShack, Lorelai, Rory, and Gigi sit around the kitchen table in their Christmas sweaters, stringing popcorn and cranberry garlands. Lorelai and Rory proceed to have inappropriately adult conversation in front of Gigi as she works on her cranberry/popcorn ratio. Lorelai is upset about not being able to come up with something good for Luke's letter: "It turns out I can't write." Rory protests, but Lorelai insists that everything she writes is too schmucky: "'Luke Danes is a highly-regarded member of this community,'" she quotes her early attempts. "It's like I'm some documentary narrarator from the History Channel." She says she also can't get away from using the term "stand-up" when saying how Luke is such a "stand-up guy," and an "upstanding member of the community": "People are going to think he's turned into a comedian." I sincerely doubt Luke would ever been confused for a comedian of any kind. Thinking she'd try to get the letter going by writing down whatever came to mind, Lorelai ran into problems when she realized her head was just a big bag of weird, especially when her stream-of-consciousness attempts led her to the unhelpful phrase of "hockey puck, rattlesnake, monkey monkey, underpants." Rory wonders if her problem with the writing has more to do with her feelings for Luke, but Lorelai ignores this. (And why wouldn't she, considering that this is the first time in eleven episodes we've even had the merest hint that she HAS any feelings for or about Luke?) Lorelai has a new idea: Rory should write the letter: "You are a wonderful writer. Everything you write is so good! Your grocery lists are like shimmering haikus!" Rory rolls her eyes, saying that Lorelai writes a pretty mean grocery list herself. "It doesn't have to shimmer," Rory adds. "It just has to be authentic and real." She says that, as a matter of fact, she's going to put her idea to the test by writing a letter to Lucy, apologizing for the whole Marty thing. "That's great," says Lorelai. "And when you're done, you can write my letter for me!" Rory refuses. Lorelai sighs that maybe the problem is the writing-by-hand part. She decides to pull out her old electric typewriter and give the letter a shot on that. I hate to break it to her, but typing makes nothing easier. Seriously, is there anything scarier than the endless potential of a Word document? I fear the blank page like nothing else. I would rather be covered in spiders. Oh, well, wait, I took it too far there, but you know what I'm saying. Rory and Lorelai are interrupted when Chris comes in from shopping, and Rory is alarmed when Lorelai immediately changes the subject, obviously trying to keep the subject of the letter from Chris. Christopher won't let anyone see inside the bags, saying that they contain Santa's Secret Stuff. "Lorelai knows Santa," says Gigi. "She does Santa's dry cleaning!" "Well," nods Christopher, to Lorelai and Rory's joint cringing, "Lorelai is a remarkable woman." They are making me feel sorry for Christopher? What is going on here?
Lane waddles into the apartment to find her husband and her mother cooking together in the kitchen. Every woman's nightmare! Oh my God, I just got the shakes. "Welcome home, babe!" Zach and Mrs. Kim call in unison, excitedly pointing out all the stuff they bought together at the natural market. Lane is irritated by their over-concern about her diet, and goes on a rant about all the baby-crazy customers at the diner. Zach ignores her, of course, sitting down on the couch and making her put her feet up so that he can rub them. As a brief aside: I learned from an acupuncturist last week that rubbing a pregnant woman's lower legs, ankles, and feet is actually not a good idea, since it allegedly stimulates labor. Take it with a grain of salt, though, because I also learned that there is a pressure point on the shin called "Stomach 36." Hey, I'm not turning up my nose -- there are a billion Chinese people for a reason, after all -- I'm just saying, that's funny. Mrs. Kim and Zach continue to torture Lane about vitamins and bladder control until Lane absolutely melts down and has to whip out a giant candy bar to soothe herself. She gets even more upset when she sees that Zach and Mrs. Kim have set up a large crib where her drums used to be. "You put my drum kit in the CLOSET?" she yelps, and sways over to pull open the door, yelling that they need to have band practice. "Well, if you want," says Zach, "we can call Gil and Brian, but...can you even play?" Lane gives him the laser eyes of rage, snarling, "I. can. play." Zach wisely shuts up: "Okay, cool."
At Weston's, Lorelai and Rory are having no luck carrying out their candy cane coffee tradition. Despite melting three candy canes in her coffee, Lorelai can barely taste the peppermint. She is incredulous that the restaurant would stop selling Christmas coffee the moment Christmas was over, and throws up her hands, saying that they'll just have to go Christmas shopping. Rory sees what's really happening, and tells her procrastinating mom, "Write your letter. Coming to Weston's was supposed to buck up your spirits and inspire your writing." Lorelai says that without the candy cane coffee, she can't do it, whining, "Rory, I can't." She further distracts herself by trying to bribe Sue, the waitress, to give her some special coffee from the back. "Honey," Sue says like she's crazy. "Christmas is over." With this dose of reality, Rory finally busts Lorelai for lying to Christopher about the Luke letter: "Come on, Mom. If there's anything to be learned from this whole thing with Lucy, it's that honesty is the best policy." Lorelai: "Eh, it's an okay policy." Rory wonders how Lorelai can expect to have any kind of good relationship with Christopher if she won't be honest with him. "Honey, listen," says Lorelai. "I have been around a long time, okay? I wore leggings the last time they were trendy. I knew Tom Hanks when he was a Bosom Buddy. I have lived and I have learned." She says she understands that Rory values honesty, but sometimes, uh, the truth is just a little more complicated. Rory ain't buying this line of bullshit, and neither am I. Lorelai says that Chris has been a little on edge about Luke lately, after running into him outside Doose's, and after arguing with Lorelai about Emily's plans for the wedding party, so she just wants to be sensitive and not worry him about something he doesn't need to be worried about. Is Lorelai putting us on, or are we putting her on? How could this woman not have learned in thirty-seven years that her avoidance and passive-aggressive machinations never work? Rory says that Lorelai's reasoning makes sense, which she would, seeing as how she once stole a BOAT when she got her feelings hurt! Ladies, please! What is wrong with you? (And by the way, it's certainly not your wardrobe, which continues to be bangin'.) Rory says that, really, she wants her mom to know that she's not a kid anymore, and that she doesn't have to create this Christmas illusion where everything is perfect and fine. "You still believe in Santa, though, right?" Lorelai asks. Rory: "Your best dry cleaning client? Yeah, of course."
Back at his apartment, Luke is hanging up a scary plaster mask April made for him in art class. Luke is a good dad and says he loves it, though it looks like something out of a scary Lifetime movie called Masking My Pain or something. I hated this scene, as I do all scenes containing April though I will stipulate once again that the child is very cute. But, can we be done with this? Scott Patterson can't take this kid anymore. He is trying, and it's a yeoman's effort, but their conversations are a struggle. April and Luke have a talk which reveals that April is still in denial about moving to New Mexico, and though Luke does his best to cheer her up, April continues to grump about it. From under the table, he suddenly pulls a HUGE box, which April happily opens. Awkwardly, she has to break it to him that her grandmother already gave her one for Christmas. Which grandmother? The sick one in New Mexico? Did she mail it? Maybe. Poor Luke is disheartened, though April tries to insist that she can use two rock polishers: "You should see my rock collection right now. I've practically got a quarry in my bedroom." Cute. Luke tries to bribe April into happiness again with stories about the great rocks of New Mexico, but she isn't having it.
Lorelai is lying across her bed, thinking about the Luke letter, when Chris comes in. She very obviously whips the pad under the bed to try to disguise her activities, and passes her mysterious behavior off by saying she's assembling his Christmas gift. "What'd you get me?" asks Christopher in an annoying cutesy voice. "A Maserati!" she replies, adding that she needs some masking tape to put it together. She shoves Christopher out the door and yells for Rory, saying that they have to go shopping.
Hep Alien is getting ready for band practice back at the apartment, waiting on Gil to arrive. As Brian stares in awe at her huge belly, Lane raves about the latest album from Art Brut: "As far as I'm concerned, 'Formed A Band' could be the new national anthem." She finally has to bash on a cymbal to get Brian's attention away from her stomach. "You gotta watch the loud noises, babe," Zach admonishes her. "Loud noises?" Lane says, incredulous. "We're about to play rock and roll!" Brian notices Zach's new mandolin, and they've barely started talking about it before Zach is using the instrument to show off all the baby holds he's been practicing. "Man, Lane," he says, "I wish your mom was here! This is so totally rock and roll baby!" Brian is fascinated by the baby stuff, and practices on his bass. Lane is highly relieved when Gil arrives (WOO! Sebastian Bach, you are looking FLY), thinking they are finally going to jam. But, what's this? Gil's sitter flaked and he's had to bring his youngest kid, Macon: "I figured you guys would be a little more understanding, seeing as you guys are in the family way." Lane is so ready to rock, but the guys are obsessed with all things baby. Gil calls Lane the ultimate fertility goddess, and absolutely glows when he sees the breast pump they've chosen: "It's really gentle. I mean, my wife's got really sensitive nipples and this one didn't bum her out at all." HA! Lane uncomfortably yells that she's sure Brian is not interested in this stuff, but in fact, he's fascinated. Gil goes on to educate Brian further, telling him that women can either breastfeed or use formula, which is cool, too: "I mean, if you use formula, the old lady can smoke, drink, eat as many tacos as she wants. No problemo!" Awesome. Sebastian Bach should do commercials for Similac.
At the mall, Rory bemoans the heaviness of books as she and Lorelai shop for gifts. They run over the list of what they've bought. "I got some cologne for Michel," Lorelai says, "same cologne for my mother." Rory points out that that's weird. "Well," says Lorelai, "I figure they'll hate whatever I get them, so why spend time picking out doomed gifts?" All that's left, after the butter slicer or whatever it is they bought for Sookie, they only need to buy something for Christopher. "He is my husband now," says Lorelai. "I've never bought something for a husband before." She can't think of anything he might want or need ["I heard that, girlfriend" -- Wing Chun] until Rory walks past a science store window containing a huge telescope. Despite never indicating, to my recollection, that Christopher has an interest in space, they decide this is the perfect gift. I guess it didn't occur to them to get him a mirror? ["To be fair, there are mirrors in it." -- Wing Chun] Surprise, April and Luke are in line at the science store, exchanging the rock polisher. They share awkward hellos, and when April compliments them on their Christmas sweaters, Lorelai explains that they've saved Christmas to spend together. "Of course you did," says Luke, smiling knowingly. April is impressed that Rory has just returned from "meeting [her] lover in a foreign city." Dude, "lover"? She's twelve. Please don't ever have her say "lover" again. Mostly, April can't wait to be a glamorous grown-up who gets to decide where she goes and when: "Being a kid is the pits sometimes." The Gilmores agree. Luke returns from the register with April's replacement gift: a microscope. "Wow," says Rory, "that's great." April: "My dad's always been a great gift-giver." Uh, "always"? Since the five minutes you've known him? Perhaps she is remembering her birthday, when he almost gave her a cat vanity set or whatever it was, and Lorelai saved his ass. Luke shyly recalls that he's not really the best at choosing presents. "Right, Rory?" he shrugs. "Towels." Rory pshaws -- the towels were great, she says -- but April is mortified. "You gave her towels?" she says, as if they're talking about a bag of coal. Luke says he thought the towels were cool, being monogrammed and all. "Yes," says Rory, "you went through quite the monogram phase." Luke laughs, remember all the other stuff he gave her over the years. Rory reminds him of the unicorn marionette and unicorn sweatshirt and other unicorn paraphernalia he gifted. Luke looks sweetly embarrassed, but Rory comments on how nice he always was, never forgetting her birthday: "And every holiday there was always a monogrammed unicorn item." Hee. "Dad," April interrupts, "for the record, I'm not really into unicorns, either." During all of this, Lorelai tries to hold back her wistful smile as she remembers how sweet Luke has always been to her daughter.
Outside Doose's, Lane and Zach argue over her ability to carry a bag of groceries. She's sick to death of being bossed around, especially by him and her mom. "Come on," says Zach, "she's been pretty great, Lane. She's cooked for us, cleaned for us; she's a total fount of baby information." Lane scoffs: "Well, maybe you should have married my mom, then, okay?" Zach: "Well, maybe when she was younger..." Lane whips around on him. "Hey" he says defensively, "I'm just saying she's a handsome woman. When she was younger, she probably looked a little like you. Shorter hair, no glasses, maybe a bit more crabby. Maybe." Lane says she's just sick of Mrs. Kim, and sick of everything else, too -- especially being treated like she's not a person. "On what planet is it appropriate," she asks, "to ask a person how many times a day she urinates?" Zach: "Well, you can ask me. Six times today so far. I had a lot of coffee." Hee. They are both great in this scene, especially when Lane finally breaks down and reveals what's bothering her most: "It was such a small window. A peephole, really. For years, I was this repressed kid, and there was the briefest of windows. And now? Slam. All of a sudden I'm this overburdened mother. I barely got the chance to be a person." Zach says that just because they have kids doesn't mean that have to stop rocking: "Sonic Youth has a kid and they're still way cool." He also points out that Mick Jagger has, like, fifteen kids. "For sure," he says, "the man rocks hard, and then he comes home and makes another kid." He says that they can still go out and play music. That's one of the benefits of having MamaKim around, says Zach -- built-in babysitter. Lane says she guesses he's right and, feeling a little better, lets him carry her grocery bag. So sweet. Well-done scene.
Back in front of the diner, Luke and April have the MY GOD MOST ANNOYING conversation about her continuing upsetedness about having to move. Luke says that the court case makes it really important to keep things honest between him and her mother, so they can't be sneaking around to see each other. She asks if he's hired a good lawyer, and he says yes. "Good," she says, "because Mom hired a shark."
At home, Lorelai is busy at her typewriter, finishing up the letter. She pulls it out of the carriage, folds it (without signing it), and goes downstairs to find Christopher, Rory, and Gigi decorating cookies. "We made cookies by scratching," Gigi says cutely. "'From scratch,'" Chris corrects her. Lorelai puts on her coat and says she'll be right back. Rory tells her to hurry -- they'll be screening Christmas In July in thirty minutes. "Thought we'd start a new tradition," says Christopher, and for once, Lorelai has no smart comeback. "Sounds good," she says, instead, and heads to the square to the corner postbox where, as she drops Luke's letter in the box, snow begins to fall.