Despite trying to get everything organized, I just fell short. I grew tired on Christmas Eve and let it slip away. But here is Christmas morning of sorts. Der Bingle on hearing me say I was editing photos, commented I always edit AmeliaJake out. So thus I start off:

Now:

Blurry Cameron

Cameron and nutcracker

Colin, who is autistic and who had a good time.

Summer

Der Bingle himself

Rummage sale Santa on little tree

Our funky 2008 tree

And, of course, the chip monk

Oh, yeah, we had a bit of excitement . . . I sat watching Alison hand out the presents to the kids and thought the big package was the XBox 360 from Der Bingle (and me). Then she handed that large, obviously light-weight package to Robert.  So I mouthed to her, “XBox?” and she looked back  blankly at me. I thought she had wrapped it, but, no, actually it was missing in non-action. Too many hiding places . . . too many covering afghans. But, I the amazing AmeliaJake, found it upstairs in the sitting room in the big flex garbage bag in which Der Bingle had brought it.

I really should have been very grateful and, therefore, festive this season. But I wasn’t, even though I kept trying to talk myself into it. The harder I worked to make myself realize things had worked out okay, the more unsteady I became. Maybe next year, I will have lived well-enough to earn Christmas spirit.

Oh, this sounds so maudlin, but I guess I mention it because if I have seemed low, it is no one’s fault. And it’s okay.

It is cold here . . . real cold. I reached the point where I put duct tape on one of the doors because until it got this cold and this windy I did not realize the constant use had  undermined the insulation on the door jamb. Yes, it is Sydney’s door from the porch. He is not pleased. He wants to use THAT door.

However, the screen door is frozen shut . . . although that isn’t preventing cold from seeping through the recently discovered air leaks. It is too cold for a real fix . . . well, when a temporary duct taping will serve.

Oh, my. We have lost power. Now this is not good.

YEA! It turned out to a be a tripped circuit breaker for part of the house. WooHoo. But Sydney is still BooHoo-ing about his door.

Firewood brigade . . . YO.

Summer named our Christmas tree Bob, after Bob in “What About Bob?” and here is our progress so far.

Summer on the Christmas Tree Field Train, wearing her great-grandfather’s hat.

Alison and Summer – Alison is wearing my trapper Land’s End hat under her hood. It was not that cold but we let her do it because we thought it made her look really silly, and so we looked more normal.

Oops! No pictures from the actual obtaining of Bob.

Part of Bob’s ride home, but this wasn’t his view because he was in the trunk.

Grandma driving on I-69; Bob, of course, cannot see her. This is Summer’s view. Grandma is wearing Summer’s hat, by the way.

Traditional stop at Steak and Shake after getting the tree.

Bob at Steak and Shake; Bob wasn’t hungry.

Bob in Krinner stand but not yet freed; Sydney circling Bob, the tree in the house.

Okay, maybe, finally . . . today will be tree day. Yesterday was colder and much windier than expected with some reported slickness on the roads. This is just a little update that I am making on my way to the weather forecast and the tree place hours and to intense meditation to heighten my elf powers and stamina.

It is this short. And this is my mantra: Don’t forget the camera.

Reindeer??

Basket on the NW corner desk.

Oh, and while we’re here at his location, some others are as well . . .

William Vance and Lydia Akers on their wedding day.

High school Quentin viewed through moose antlers. Or was it 8th grade?

This morning we’ve been cleaning and getting things picked up and I even put a burgundy tablecloth on the big table room here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. And I put a metal double-sided cut-out of Santa and his reindeer taking flight. Need some candles for it though.

Someone stepped on the vacuum pipe but I fixed it by pounding a ballpeen hammer into the opening with a mallet to re-round the hole. Yes, yes, sometimes I even astound myself . . . and yes, the ballpeen hammer came out of the pipe. (That it would not was in the back of my mind.)

Cans were packed up and sent to recycling and soon I will shower and sort of cycle my daily way to “the Wal-Mart”. Auuuuugggghhhhhhhh.

The day started out with sun and blue sky and now it is overcast and forebodingly grey. But, but, before that happened, I ate my lunch at my usual table, the one by the window that faces the south. Chili and a small hamburger – don’t tell folks here at the cafe, but can you say Wendy’s? – and the pattern of sunlight and  shadow of blinds on the worn red tabletop. The Irish Tenors were on the CD player and when Fairytale of New York came on, I asked all the chatterers  to be still. They went to whispers, so soon I will replay it. Ha! Let them whisper with duct tape on their mouths.

Source of Irish Tenors . . . and Bing Crosby . . . and John Denver and Muppets

and

down below, one of AmeliaJake’s cute little guys

Oh, here I am sitting with a heating pad on my knee and an autopsy show on tv. Ack, Der Bingle and friends woud cringe.  Summer already left – two hours ago – when I watched a show about face transplants. Yes, it is Tuesday on TLC.

But at least there was a nice little part –  a Pier One commercial with the little shiny VW ornament and the caption: By golly, let’s get jolly. Uh, I guess you had to be here, watching it, hearing the music; in writing, “by golly, let’s get jolly” has a lot of letters that are really dragging their little tails.

So. we are doing the old back and forth conversation about how much to decorate the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. Today, I made a wreath and used the rich, deeply colored LED bulbs and they were great, but the wreath looks like a tumor . . . so I’ll be redoing it.