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When it comes to pretty girls, I can see as well as you
It is snowing outside, brisk and dustily, for real. I hope it sticks through tonight: I want whiteness under the moon for the solstice. Fingers crossed, too, for the lunar eclipse.
Last night we decorated the tree by firelight, as is traditional. My brother stuck a sparkler in among the logs; it fizzed like the fourth of July. I can't quite figure out how I wound up with this many ornaments, considering Christmas isn't even a holiday I observe outside of my family's two or three chosen traditions. The heavy golden pressed-glass star of David always goes on the tree first.
My brother's best friend, who is really family, is home from Afghanistan. He crashed into the house like Alkibiades at the end of the Symposium a little after two in the morning on Saturday; everyone's schedule went to hell after that (even mine), but he was worth it. He's served two tours of duty. He was blown up quite impressively, more than once. Just in the last few months, he was finally awarded one of his Purple Hearts. We don't believe they can send him back anymore. I hope not. I don't want to keep sending poetry to war zones.
I would like not to have been late for lunch with Athena Andreadis at the Classic Café in Arlington, but it was lovely conversation all the same. I use her name as a shameless segue to the second issue of Stone Telling, in which I have no work, but a great many terrific people do.
The King's Speech (2010) actually was as good as I'd hoped. There will be a post about it. Just not this instant, because there are these papers I've promised to bang my head against.
It has not yet stopped snowing. Keep on.
Last night we decorated the tree by firelight, as is traditional. My brother stuck a sparkler in among the logs; it fizzed like the fourth of July. I can't quite figure out how I wound up with this many ornaments, considering Christmas isn't even a holiday I observe outside of my family's two or three chosen traditions. The heavy golden pressed-glass star of David always goes on the tree first.
My brother's best friend, who is really family, is home from Afghanistan. He crashed into the house like Alkibiades at the end of the Symposium a little after two in the morning on Saturday; everyone's schedule went to hell after that (even mine), but he was worth it. He's served two tours of duty. He was blown up quite impressively, more than once. Just in the last few months, he was finally awarded one of his Purple Hearts. We don't believe they can send him back anymore. I hope not. I don't want to keep sending poetry to war zones.
I would like not to have been late for lunch with Athena Andreadis at the Classic Café in Arlington, but it was lovely conversation all the same. I use her name as a shameless segue to the second issue of Stone Telling, in which I have no work, but a great many terrific people do.
The King's Speech (2010) actually was as good as I'd hoped. There will be a post about it. Just not this instant, because there are these papers I've promised to bang my head against.
It has not yet stopped snowing. Keep on.
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Not particularly. When I was a small child, to be allowed to stay up till midnight was a special thing—the changeover from autumn to winter, ditto the shortest night in summer—but it's my default mode these days.
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Here still waiting on snow. Wondering what Sigerson will do for the back-to-back eclipse and solstice. (Suspect Eclipse may be invisible due to clouds, but if they're dropping snow, it'll be worth it.)
Banging my head against the $#@%^&* papers too.
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Thanks.
(Suspect Eclipse may be invisible due to clouds, but if they're dropping snow, it'll be worth it.)
Eclipses are rarer, especially for the solstice, but I will accept a snowstorm as a substitute.
Banging my head against the $#@%^&* papers too.
I had to restrain myself from writing politically cynical comments all over one of them . . .
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I'm so so glad your brother's best friend is home.
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It's the first real snow of the season, which is a little sad—I still think it should start to snow in October or November, although it really hasn't for decades that I can remember—but I am always glad of snow when it comes.
I'm so so glad your brother's best friend is home.
Thank you.
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I was out in the snow doing the last bit of my Christmas shopping. It was lovely. Now I am home with tea, looking out at the snow. I will be sick of the snow come February, but for now, it's wonderful.
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Seriously.
I was out in the snow doing the last bit of my Christmas shopping. It was lovely. Now I am home with tea, looking out at the snow.
That does sound nice.
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Athena
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Absolutely.
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I'm very glad your brother's best friend is safely home. I hope they indeed can't send him back again.
Glad you had a lovely lunch, and enjoyed the film. Good luck with all the snow, and the papers, and all the rest.
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Thank you.
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Alas, no. But that reminds me that I probably need to re-shovel the walk.
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However, we just saw The Horse's Mouth, which really was amazing.
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That's fair. I didn't think Timothy Spall was any good as Churchill, either.
However, we just saw The Horse's Mouth, which really was amazing.
I'm very glad!