Mined from the notebooks and lifted from the album, Friday morning, December 18, 2020. Posted Saturday morning, December 19.
Friday. 7:15 a.m. 25 degrees. Wind from the North. 6.836 mph. (Somebody at the weather site is being a stickler.) The northeaster blew through here in a hurry, dragging behind it what looks like's going to be a beautiful day. Roads are clear. No drifting. Won't be too bad going out in this, which I'm going to be doing soon. Right now, though, I'm sitting on the couch in the living room, drinking a second cup of tea, staring absently out the window, and waiting for Oliver to get ready to be driven to today's substitute teaching gig. Trying to decide if the tree is posing for next year's Christmas card or the cover of one of those compilation albums of Christmas standards sung by Bing, Frank, Steve and Eydie, and their like they used to give out at gas stations and which I listened to endlessly when I was a kid. I'm thinking album cover because that saves me from having to be ambitious next fall and get the order into Shutterfly in time to have the cards printed up in time to send out in December.
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