Yesterday, I wrestled my three-part fake pre-lit Christmas tree into its box and taped it closed before it could spring back out. I felt a great sense of accomplishment. I hope it still lights up next Christmas.
Then today, I sent out sixty-five Christmas letters. Because I am prompt like that.
It’s been cold here, dipping into the thirties and even twenties at night–which is very cold, indeed, for San Diego. I actually slipped on ice the other morning while walking the dog. But today it was glorious and warm, a little warmer than seventy degrees. I would have liked to recline on a chaise lounge in the sunshine except for two problems:
1) I don’t own a chaise lounge.
2) I didn’t have time to recline. I was too busy stuffing Christmas letters into envelopes, thinking how silly it was to even send anything this late.
After the letters were ready to send, I drove Grace and Lola the Dog and the envelopes to a mailbox which is weirdly situated on the side of a road near the dog park. Then we went to the dog park where Lola the Dog pranced and raced and greeted more people than dogs. My daughter greeted every dog she could, especially the Corgi which is her current favorite breed.
After the sun had set, we returned home and I cooked a quick dinner.
At any rate, it’s no longer Christmas around here, just in case you were wondering, and in fact, this week it looks almost like summer, especially by Seattle standards.