Yes, it's the season when I sort of forget I'm a writer (but never forget I'm a reader) and turn my attention to the holidays. Tonight I feel very smug--my house is decorated for Christmas. That's not as big a deal as it sounds, for I haven't had a tree in several years--I'm always at somebody else's house on Christmas morning. But I decorate the mantel, the buffet in the living room, the dining table, and the coffee table in the living room, plus scatter a few things here and there. And today, I've got it done to my satisfaction. I do still need help with lights. The only strings I could find are so long that the one on the mantel twists back and forth three times, so I gave up on the much shorter buffet. I'd like to put lights and fake greens around the door this year, since I've given up on putting out those two small artificial trees--they blow over at the slightest breeze. Yes, it's a bit early to decorate--I usually do it on Thanksgiving weekend, but I'll be gone this weekend and the dog sitter will be here--I doubt she wants to decorate. Christian and Jordan got everything down from the attic Friday night, except my Jim Shores Santa Claus--so last night, with Susan standing watch, I climbed up and got it. In an e-mail tonight, Christian asked how the Santa got down from the attic. I told him I'm not as frail a flower as I seem--I just don't think it's smart to go up there when I'm alone in the house. Of course, Jordan will put finishing touches on my decorating, but she is tonight on a "fam" cruise on the new Royal Caribbean ship, The Oasis, that superhuge cruise ship. She'll be home tomorrow night. Anyone interested in a cruise? Call Jordan!
I actually did some other work today--two hours at the office, returning some oh-so-awful dried apricots, getting dog food. And tonight I made two loaves of prune bread to take to Charles (one at a time). Now I'm going to settle down with the novel I'm reading, Dead Heat--it's the first one I've seen by Felix Francis, without his father's name, but it reads just like a Dick Francis novel--and best of all, the main character is a chef. Of course he's a chef who caters events at horse tracks and grew up around racing--I don't stray far from food mysteries.
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