December 27th, 2004



Foggy days and foggy nights. I am not in a fog, although my home is. The temperature is dropping, I can feel it in my bones. Birds are cold feathered bundles huddled together under leaves, in chilly nests, wishing they'd gone south. A tree is outlined in white, rimed in frost, a starry anomaly. The waning moon glows encircled, wreathed in fog.

Apparently the postal system is working in a fog too, as my sister just summarized our lists of missing gifts to and from the States, mostly from, and it totals 13 packages. :( Amazon, you suck. USPS, you suck worse.

Things I Should Have Put On My Christmas List: a maid, a massage, sushi

I'm reading my second Nancy Mitford book in 2 days. I'm madly in love with her style and her characters. Why has it taken me so long to discover her writing? Beware, Mom, I've added nearly her entire bibliography to my wish list.

Tomorrow we have grocery shopping for New Year's Eve (dinner party! our place! be there or be square!) and I have a meeting with the girls who are joining the AWC webteam as well as the woman who is taking over as AWC Slave Editor for me next year (yay!!). On Wednesday we are driving up to Gothenburg to pick up our new used car, and staying overnight with the hospitable reebert! :)

By the way, have you seen my motivation? I think I lost it. Or maybe it got thrown out accidentally in that giant black garbage bag of wrapping paper and packaging. I suspect it's out wandering, on vacation, hopping merrily along with a jaunty step and its hat tilted rakishly over one of its i's. If I leave it alone, I suppose it will come home eventually. Wagging its behind, of course.
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    Trespassers William—In a Song