My mood is a little better than it was at my last post (a post the first paragraph of which I was about to tone down, when I saw that it had gotten views already, so I left it alone, figuring if I felt tired and depleted, and it showed, then heck, the truth was out).
It was a quiet, small Christmas. Elder daughter had a couple days off, so she was with us, and we were all away from this neighborhood and the aching absences of it. We took the two indoor cats, since hanging around with no cats is awful.
How COULD you do this to us?
It's an outrage.
They were freaked at first, in a strange place, and then quickly decided it was wonderful.
We missed Scooter, the outdoor cat, a lot, but his favorite cat sitter came over to placate him.
|K Mart, late afternoon Dec 24th. "OK, Christmas is over! Clear that space and have it full of Valentine stuff by one minute after midnight! Let's go, people!"|
We all went to a Genuine Episcopal church Christmas Eve, and it was a really joyful service. I roasted a turkey. It was small and Rombauer insisted it needed a day of refrigerator thawing, for every 8 pounds of bird, but after 36 hours the 8.75 pound bird was rock hard and took a lengthy series of cold water quick-thaw procedures. Dinner turned out pretty good. I really hate dealing with frozen turkey.
I had time to do some thinking and a lot of vegetating.
Here's the tree, with village underneath. The church, and the two simple houses in the background, are a village that I made in 1992. Back then, it sat on the windowsill of my single-woman apartment, on a white pillowcase and with low watt bulbs tucked under the buildings, to make them glow out the onionskin windows. It was cool looking and I was quite proud of it. I wanted to use them this year, among the rest of the houses and shops we collect:
I made my buildings out of mat board. I wanted them to last. and the walls themselves are still colorful and haven't warped, but my joining methods were pretty primitive, so they're separating and need work to tighten them back up. When they were new, lights under them looked awesome, kind of glowing out of the plain home windows, and the stained glass window I colored for the church looked nifty. But the stained glass is really Flair [tm] pen coloring and has faded some.
So now, internally lit, the church looks like this :
Yet that somehow seems appropriate, after all the church infighting that's gone on. In fact it's a good illustration for the quote that's probably getting overused lately : "There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."