Colds and the holiday season

It occurred to me today that Michael's diary* is like the universe in a way--black, cold, bleak, and dark; sparingly scattered with brilliant, burning points of light; utterly fascinating; utterly heartbreaking. The story of his life almost reminds me of a modern Jude The Obscure. Obviously the plot isn't the same, but the feeling (or the feeling that I remember from my quick reading of the book four or so years ago) is the same. I fervently hope that this ending will be wholly different, and further off.


Today is a day that can only be described as "blustery." It's beautiful, and not only because it reminds me of Pooh. The sun is shining, the wind is blowing, and the air is damp and, considering the season, relatively warm. I have the front door standing open and the radio playing it's PRI selection of classical music as I drink tea, eat crystallized ginger and garlic bread**, and slowly ready the house for Christmas as I attempt to get well.

[All of the above written in the early afternoon and then abandoned until I felt like finishing around 10:30 or so.]


I have been sniffling and sneezing, rubbing my nose and coughing my way through the day, and my mother is displeased with me for still being sick. She and I went to Big Lots on a quest to purchase our first ever artificial Christmas tree, and we picked one up (4 ft, pre lit) for $20. We also got some plain old white twinkle lights, and a pretend evergreen garland (the real ones are so not worth the trouble and mess), and a strand of poinsettia lights. I have been decorating this evening, and we wrapped a few presents.

This is our first attempt to do anything other than hanging a wreath on the door and stapling up icicle lights, so bear with us. (Obviously we usually have a tree, but that hasn't been cut yet. Hold your horses.)

While I'm uploading stuff, here are our Thanksgiving songs:

Sorry for the mixed formats. Blogger refused to work with me at first.


And here is my newest cousin, Fielding:

And my about-to-be-newest cousin, Sprout, along with his/her parents, Josh and Neville:

And lastly, here is Miley giving her best effort. 110%. (Sometimes, love just isn't enough.)

*Linked here, if you're interested.

**And when I say "garlic bread," I mean toast with olive oil and raw chopped garlic. It's enough to burn your mouth, especially with the ginger thrown into the mix. There's more than one reason to stay away from me at the moment.