I was going to say markgritter is very tolerant of me referring to his grandfather's Christmas present as Hanukkah gelt (it's money, and it arrived during Hanukkah), but I think I'm very tolerant of me: I'm the only one who has to hear the little song in my head over and over again.
It's not actually day five of my Christmas here. It's day seven. But I get extra birthday days anyway, so I suppose I could get a fortnight of Christmas instead of everybody else's twelve. You can have a fortnight of Christmas, too, if you like. Go for it. Tomorrow morning it will become a much quieter segment of the fortnight, as seagrit's carload intends to leave before 9:00 a.m. and it doesn't sound like the other carload will be lingering too much later than that. And we will put things in order and attack Melvin The Laundry Monster again (once more into...) and so on.
Today we took all the Gritters but Matt to some Twin Cities stuff. Pictures forthcoming, frozen falls and model trains and the ever-lovely Conservatory. Dave and Lin took us to Forepaugh's for dinner, and the Coquilles Saint Jacques were most tasty and the salad dressing was nice and zippy, but the flourless chocolate cake with Grand Marnier really did take the...um. Was the best thing.
In the meantime, I'm going to go read my book on the couch amidst Gritters, reminding myself that when Dorothy Dunnett talks about Hospitallers in hospital robes, she doesn't mean that their bare arses are flapping in the breezes of Malta while pastel cotton duckies adorn them in the front.
You have to admit it's an image and a half, though. Enough to make one go with the Turks instead, or nearly.