And it's really hard to remain a Grinch during a white Christmas...
To start with, you must know that the impending post-holiday season is looming like Mark Helprin's cloud wall in one of my favorite books, A Winter's Tale. The cloud wall is a massive, impenetrable fog between Manhattan and New Jersey that swallows boats whole and. Or, maybe a better metaphor is Stephen King's Mist, a fog far more treacherous than Helprin's dimension-bending precursor to the Lincoln Tunnel.
|A failed attempt to get me into the spirit|
Despite the appearance of gray, swirling confusion on the horizon, I've made peace with the fact that, like Helprin's Baymen, who make sport of outrunning the cloud wall, it is my destiny live right at its edge (in the book, this location is called "Bayonne.")*
No, I'm not moving to Bayonne.
My point is, we had a very nice holiday. But you know I can't write anything that simply.
We haven't had a true white Christmas in a very long time and snow on the ground is not as devastating around here, particularly because you learn very fast to have a four-wheel drive vehicle at your disposal. Which is to say, Dark Garden made it here, broken leg and all.
And, of course, both Heirs made it home and were
|Here is Linguiniland, not only wasn't there room at the inn;|
the stable was getting pretty crowded also.
Tomorrow we do it again for New Years Eve. Then it's back to reality.
You'll find me dancing at the edge of the cloud wall.
*Just found out they're turning A Winter's Tale into a movie, but shooting was held up by hurricane Sandy. I so hope they do this justice -- it could be a really beautiful film!