Look, DIL2, Snow!

Well, not much but it is snow. DIL2 always hopes for a white Christmas up here in the wilds of Wisconsin. She hails from Kentucky where snow is more of an emergency than commonplace winter weather. I have to say that a bit of snow would make me feel a bit more Christmas-y too. I've still got the autumn colors wreath on the door and no ornaments in sight, unless you count the flamingo in board shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a broken ukulele I got for ninety-nine cents at JoAnn Fabrics last week. I just stirred the batch of party mix for the last time so the fragrance of baked cereal and Worcestershire sauce is wafting through the house. I could so eat handfuls of the stuff but I don't want to burn my mouth. I'll wait until it's cool. Er. Cooler. I can't promise to wait until it's totally cool but I will wait a few minute so any nuts I might snag in my grab won't burn holes in my tongue. I'm wanting to go see the lights at the botanical garden but if it doesn't snow I think I'll take a pass. We've been kicking around the idea of getting a real tree this year but we found no tabletop trees today and the regular ones are $25 and up. Is that what a dead tree goes for these days? Good grief. Looks like the fake one (ten bucks brand new at KMart--that was the first letter our kids learned to recognize, the big red K for KMart) wins again. I splurged some of my allowance this morning and bought myself another new black neoprene wrist support. The old beige one looks dirty and scraggly even if I wash it, it looks bad, so I decided I needed a new one. Another new one. They do make my hands and fingers feel better. It sucks getting old. A female Red-bellied Woodpecker has discovered our feeders. You can't really see but her head's nice and red, only the males have the red bellies but their heads are red.

December 15--Charles Cromwell Ingham, The Flower Girl. She gathered the cut blooms. They felt cool and damp against her skin and their mixed fragrances were so sweet she felt a headache begin to grow behind her eyes. In the still room off the kitchen she plunged all the cut stems into a galvanized bucket of water. She cupped her hand to capture the cool spiciness of the red-tipped carnations.

And now I have to go eat some party mix. I feel like Pepe LePew wafting along on a visible scent. It's pulling me down the hall. I can't resist.
--Barbara