Good Tuesday to ya, folks. Hope your week began well; mine was a busy blur of missed connections (wanted to get a haircut, couldn’t; wanted to put up the tree; couldn’t, etc.). At least I got to the gym. Now I’m going to write.
Sunday afternoon, a little later than I’d wanted to, I broke out my own ladder and a borrowed extension job from a buddy, and set to hanging the Christmas lights. I hadn’t done it in a few years since we’re normally out of town, and being all exposed up there in the biting cold and wind reminded me why. But they’re up now and they look mighty cheery. The tree, unfortunately, has fallen victim to the busyness of our evenings and remains un-assembled and un-adorned (yes, we do the fake thing). We’re thinking maybe tonight (which would be tomorrow night, as I write). Things have just been too hectic for the both of us until then.
Let’s talk about a few other things, but let’s make a pact to keep it short, OK? I want to finish my book tonight.
Last night the local weatherman promised the unthinkable: snow here in the foothills. Where we live in particular, we haven’t seen snow in some thirty years. Sure enough, this morning we woke to a light dusting that stuck around until the noon hour before melting away. I woke Keaton around 7:30am before going to work to show her the snow through the windows; Sharaun took pictures and posted them to the Facebook (what she does); and it was all the talk around the water cooler at work. Sometimes I think it would be nice to get a little snow around Christmas… you know like on the days when your refrigerator and pantry are stocked enough to keep you eating like royalty, the cable works and football is on, and you can read a book by the fire and not have to go anywhere. Those days are fine for snow. I guess if we lived a few more miles up the road…
Guess the season is here. Goodnight.