(no subject)

T'was the morning of Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except for the damn dog who was whining to go out. The stockings were hung on the mantle with C-clamps, and a pile of loot lay under the tree. Once upon a morning bleary, while I pondered blank and weary, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature cat burglar. Or, should I say, reindeer burglar.

breathe

Well, it's over for a few days. Christmas has (finally) come and gone. We hosted Francie's mother's 75th birtday party the next day, with most of her descendents (unto the great-grandchildren), plus former neighbors and former colleagues from the school where she taught. She left this morning, and my family arrived a couple hours later. They stayed through dinner time, which was a smorgasbord of leftovers - smoked turkey, apple-sausage stuffing, ginger-pear cranberry sauce, gravlax, balsamic green beans, and green salad. When they left, Francie and I turned to each other, sighed in unison, and locked the door.

Now we just need to keep the house clean until our New Year's Day party...