So, Christmas is done. In about six hours we're flying down to California to see my family and our friends down there, so I'll make this quick.
We hosted dinner: 12 adults, two children, one 25-pound turkey. Now I have to find our passports and finish packing our bags.
It's easy for me to give in to depression at this time of year. It's dark, the holidays are over, and Christmas spawns a great deal of humbuggery in me. And here I am, having wasted the last hour reading blogs instead of finishing packing and going to bed. No wonder I'm cranky.
Charles Johnson quoted my favorite seasonally-appropriate Eliot poem. I would not yet be glad of another death. There exists a temptation; that of looking away from this world, condemning it for its unreality (or 'mere reality'). I do not usually feel it. Usually I have the opposite problem, living too much in the real world. Perhaps that's what I feel now.
Certainly I had hoped to have something more pleasant to say!
I will try to blog from on the road, but posts should be sparse until after Jan. 9. Sparser even than usual!