Thirty-One Years

With your bravado and your pain, your merits and your faults, your voice and your silence, your ideals and your shortcomings, I miss you. I shall not canonize you, I shall only remember.

Chips and Doors

Thanks to Mrs. Anke's blog entry today, this is what I'm craving, and it is what I'm getting us for dinner tonight.

I'm sitting in the living room listening to our eclectic mix of holiday music, freezing. The heat's on, but it's bloody cold today and our front door leaks. It's an old house, you know, and I've put a rolled up blanket on the floor to block some of the cold air, but what I really need—and really want—is one of these. Well, maybe not that ornate. Seems a bit over the top. A simple tapestry on a swinging rod would do just fine.

Anyway, not much to write today. Just got over a migraine. They're not lasting three days like they have for so many years; now they pass in about half the time and they're not as severe. Anyway, that's it for me today.

No Snow, Yet

I don't know why this year is different from any in the past 10 years or so, but I got a big dose of Christmas Spirit fairly early on. It's not from the televised hype because we don't watch TV, and it's not from the radio stations that began their 24-hour Christmas playlist as soon as Halloween was over because I never really go anywhere. I think it was Thanksgiving that brought it on. We had such a perfect one this year, we could have made Norman Rockwell's famous painting look like a portrait of a dysfunctional, crack house family. Yeah, it was that good...