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2006-01-12 - 1:12 p.m.
And, then. I think the year should end on Winter Solstice. I suppose I�d have to become Pope to make that happen; seems like they rewrite all the calendars. And, since I�m not becoming a man nor a Catholic, I doubt much progress will be made. Still, I think the shortest day of the year should be the last; after this, the light returns. Of course this reasoning is crap for the southern hemisphere, where they have Christmas at midsummer.
And, then there was a month where Theo: -Spent Solstice in a park, writing in introspection. And watching a cardinal flit about. -Delivered meals for the minister who married Roland and I, with help from Peanut�s wife who still answers to the name �Mad Cow� -Spent Christmas Eve in a field holding a 20 gauge and wearing a Santa hat. -Ate communion bread sandwiches, no additional blessing required. -Bought comfy new boots. -Slept thru most of New Years Eve with an incredibly bad headache and the company of Roland who refused to leave me behind while he went to be festive. -Watched the infamous 'little-green-bug' episode of Remington Steele. -Caught up on work. -Was treated to a brief moment of with friends, local and distant, and the joy of sharing a box of chocolates with people who are happy to eat the other half without worrying about germs. -Had a fabulous time at 12th night preceded by watching Benefse squeak at exquisite Turkish clothing at the Smithsonian. -Got buried at work. Again. -Tried our Sunniva�s suggestion for baking bacon -Received an iDog from someone who loves me enough to buy me a present that whimpers when you turn it off. He�s been named Elliott. Actually, the entire saga of Christmas, as I told it to Gen and Alan over steak one night, contains at least three tangents involving my hometown mayor, Peanut�s wife, and how my mother once threatened a preacher with a knife. Alan makes such interesting faces.
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Scribble to Theo
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