It is Christmas. I am sitting in my bathrobe (shame on me!) without any slippers on. The fireplace is cold, which is perfectly OK beause it is hovering around 61 degrees right now.
I finished designing the cover for the third book in a series of mine and am debating cleaning the house. I had meant to fill in holes in a nearly finished manuscript.
(Sibling is at Mom's; other sibling and family are down in Virginia enjoying the weather. Third sibling is stranded in upstate New York with a broken down car and a shoe-eating Lab puppy named Mack (for the truck). He doesn't just eat shoes, either.
The proud owner of quite a case of puppy-wiggles, he is enthusiastic about everything but shots and baths, and hasn't met a hotdog he did not like.
Puppies are always smile-makers unless it is the middle of the night, you have been wrestling with the 'joys' of housebreaking, and you have just started to take that long, slow fall into dreamland in the middle of your warm, desperately desired bed, when you hear the prefatory yips that you just know, with a sinking feeling in your stomach, means that you will shortly be pulling on what passes for a bathrobe (I know someone who uses a quilt) and stumbling to the door to stand there while said puppy decides whether it really wants to squat to (name the function) outside, or maybe should go back to the nice, safe papers.
That, however, is not my situation. My grand old dog, Jesse James (aptly named as far as his attitude toward food goes) has been housebroken for...let me see...fourteen years. Labs age gracefully, but he spends a lot of time snoring. I may rent him out to people whose significant others are traveling and are feeling lonely at night. Some people have actually said that the sound of snoring is very soothing, and it helps them to sleep. I can loan out Jess (his nickname) and do a good deed. He no longer bellows in your ear when he wants to be let out, but he still stares when you are eating, and he does a wonderful job mimicking a starving puppy.
But I digress.
Today I am celebrating those book covers. Someday I'll bore everyone by posting them, which means that I will be smitten with an urge to change them forthwith. I am celebrating the fact that while my family is far-flung this Christmas, there are no feuds, arguments, simmering bad feelings. We all get along, we all watch each others' welfare and we actually love each other. Truly a cause to celebrate.
I am celebrating last night's Christmas Eve service. Since I was holding down the fort at this end of the country, I went alone. It was a wonderful service, everyone was welcoming, the music was lovely, and my thoughts were happy ones.
Tomorrow I drive to my Uncle's house a few hours away. He turns 90 tomorrow, and I MUST be there. Where have the years gone? He's a little deaf now, but still the sharp, wonderful uncle I always called my bess frend (I was very little).
Right now I am going to get up and pop a chicken in the oven. I like to make roast chicken, and a side of rice, cranberry sauce (with candied ginger, pineapple bits and mandarin oranges) will be good. Not sure about dessert. Perhaps the orange-tinged fudge (homemade). Pity I don't feel like drinking a bottle of Champagne by myself. It'll have to be a nip of Drambuie. I think I can take it.
It's been a lovely couple days. I hope it's been the same for you.
And now, just for pretty, a picture a friend sent me. Nearly as good as being there, she said:
All the best to all - and may 2016 be a wonderful year for you!