… And it’s a balmy Seven Degrees here in the Frozen Mountaintops. Frozen nose and fingers. From taking the garbage to the curb. It’s not that far away.
… Started reading the first Stephen King book (fiction, that is – I read ON WRITING and was thrilled) in more than twenty years this weekend. It’s creepy, I tell you what. (It’s the 11/22/63 one about the Kennedy assassination. And I’m scared. The man can tell a story.)
… Kids 3 (10.5) and 4 (very nearly eight) played Catchphrase yesterday afternoon while I was making Lemon Pound Cake. They were so funny. I wish you could have been a fly on the wall, because not much of it translates to blog. They speak their own language, frequently referencing platypus love, obscure MONK tv episodes, and pineapple. They’re cute. You can trust me on that.
… Amazon, get ready. I’m coming back today, armed with a credit card.
… Shopping is almost done. See above.
… Got the lights and decorations on the tree, and candles in the windows. I should take a picture. It looks precious. And I mean that with all the sincerity I can possibly muster. Truly.
… I love the little kids I work with at church. All 80 of them. They are adorable and hilarious.
… Scotch Tape, where have you gone? I mean it. Where are you?
… We sang Christmas songs in church yesterday, and it flipped a switch in me. Suddenly and without warning, I committed to singing in the Messiah Sing-In choir next weekend. The rehearsal last night brought some “who-do-you-think-you-are” eyebrows at our late join-up, but the music makes me crazy happy. To be alive. To worship Jesus. To sing alto. To repeat “we like sheep” until I have to actually put my hand over my mouth to suppress the “baaaaaa” noise. To want to dig deep into Isaiah and understand the Mysteries. Happy, happy.
… Hope is a thing with feathers, Emily Dickinson said. I love to see some feathers fluttering around here.