November 22nd, 2007


Happy as kings

What I wanted this year -- what I have wanted every year since I became verbal -- was snow on Thanksgiving. And I got it. Only a dusting, not enough to cover the grass, but still, it's an early Thanksgiving this year; any snow is bonus snow. My grandfather's health has improved drastically in the last ten days, with every indication that this is to be a lasting improvement; we have plenty of pie; and the porch roof is covered with snow. If that's not good, I don't know what is.

The world continues to be so full of a number of things. Thank you for being one of those things, and for exposing me to more of them.


I am the most decadent holiday person ever. I am drinking a cup of the Really Good Hot Chocolate, the stuff that's dark and lovely and sounds like rain when you pour the cocoa into the milk, and I am working on a book that is not the book I'm working on. And is not, in all likelihood, the book I will write next. But it's the book that's been poking out of my brain all week.

Bad brain. No biscuit.

But I have lefse and pie, so what do I need with biscuits? Onwards, bad brain! Onwards!