Remembering my winter skills—leaving extra time for the car to warm up, backing into the garage, lots of tiny changes in the rhythm of the day that feel like putting on shoes that have gotten wet and dried stiff, now in need of reshaping to our chilly feet.
Feeling a little headachy, wondering if I am fighting off a bug.
Catching shards from ragged tempers, the most indirect hints of other families' strife that may never find overt expression in the outside world, but nevertheless cast shadows in this otherwise bright season.
Catching up with work projects, filling in old details that have been pushed aside by pressured deadlines. Now things are slower, and I can tend to basics. It’s boring. And it’s comforting. As long as life doesn’t go on like this too long. It won’t.
Last year the week between Christmas and New Year’s was inexplicably busy, way busier than the rest of December. People bounced into my office in a steady stream, dreaming of new lives for the new year. Creativity and hope at every turn.
Social events. To whatever degree the Scroogelets stand aside and mock, even they see genuine warmth freed by seasonal good will. A friend today gave me a silly, frilly, shaggy scarf in all the colors of the rainbow. I love it. Another friend tolerated my crabby need for mid-day breakfast.
All the presents are wrapped and on their way. Should I get a tree? Have an open house? It’s pretty nice here with just the fire. Snoozing with a puppy on my chest. First one, then another. Every puppy gets a turn. Every puppy needs to learn this soothing pose. Catch their photos at http://share.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=EeAMmrJq4cOWbC6A Can you pick out the fake puppy?