The stratosphere was once where angels were

We have made no fires yet this winter: it's been too warm. There are clementines boxes stacked in the grate, awaiting the frst snow. What I want for Christmas is a blizzard.

I have received an unexpected wealth of holiday cards this year. Which means that I owe an unexpected number of people cards in return, but I'd rather take the trouble: thank you, all of you. You're awesome.

Earlier tonight, as a family, we watched Alastair Sim's Scrooge (1951), which is our traditional Christmas movie; and even if only because I was raised on it, still my favorite version of A Christmas Carol. Aliens is not so much in the spirit of the season, but my brother and I have curled up on the couch to watch it anyway. He is an awesome brother. Thanks to the tireless researches of fleurdelis28, I discovered that one of my oldest Christmas ornaments is a Yule Goat (made of yellow paper instead of straw, but still decorated with little red ribbons). Naturally the conversation turned toward Thor, which led to Mjolnir and the mitt he has to wear on his hammer-holding hand, because the handle is too short, and thus to my brother's immortal line:

"I am Thor: hear me bake!"

There is a story in there.

And to all a good night.

. . . if we are dizzy
and a little mad,
forgive us, we have had
strange visitations
from the stratosphere.
—H.D., "Christmas 1944"