Knit in the Northwest

This is by far the most un-traditional Christmas yet. Not that I am big on Christmas anyway; it seems the older I get the less enthused I am about the “season.” I do it for the kids, especially the young one. And on top of that, once you start buying someone presents, you are essentially terminally committed to continue the tradition unless something cataclysmic happens to your relationship with them, or you move away and decide to loose their phone number. OK, I will try not to sound too depressed about it; really I am not. This year, however, my oldest has moved out and my husband is gone on a 24-hour watch on Christmas day. I think that I actually welcome these nontraditional circumstances, though, because they have allowed me to find my new favorite Indian restaurant (will write about this later, fo sho), keep the house as if it were a hazardous zone, and eat things you prepare in the microwave. Just me and the little one: her watching the Grinch Who Stole Christmas on the t.v. while I shovel snow off the front steps for the first time in our new house... sort of lovely, in a way. No obligations, just laid back and casually taking the time to wonder at the sky and listen to all the little Bush Tits (yes, that is what they are called according to my Nan) chirp over the new suet cake we left out for them to feast. And now, here I am on my uber-fancy new tiny (pearl-white), 2 lb. 10” laptop and finally getting around to blog something, even if it is graciously about nothing. After all, I am not above reaping the rewards of the “season of the consumer.”
If only I could figure out how to surf and sleep at the same time… oh what a joy that would be.