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Whew. . . . I take it you made it? I mean you survived the day? All that mound of food, irritating relatives and watching the never ending saga of the sad Lions and another loss?

And this is just the beginning. We get to do all this again, and more in about a month. Is there something ever so slightly masochistic about all this?

If yesterday and the previous three days of preparation weren’t enough, a surprising number of otherwise sane appearing Americans forewent sleep and even set up pup tents in parking lots in order to be first when the doors opened at 3 am. All to secure what are undoubtedly amazing deals on electronics and clothes and other “must have” items that somebody can’t live without.  (Read: if you are a good parent you will secure said item for your children.)

No, I did not participate, although the idea of a lap top for $299. at Best Buy was intriguing. Learning that people camped out all DAY yesterday in order to get one of the 7? they had, well, I am glad I am a more principled person! I did not succumb, but rather archly commented “amateurs!” and other such epithets as I snuggled deeper into the quilt.

No way that we were ever going to do that, though the Contrarian offered to wake me up should I wish to head off at 2 am. He would not, however, be accompanying me. Yeah, like I thought he might?

We had a good meal yesterday. Most everything came out as planned. The dressing was to die for, and we both were full way to soon. It continues to drive me nearly insane to realize that I spend probably six solid hours of work on food that is consumed in 30 minutes. It does not seem fair. The best fall out is that we warm up everything again for today. At least I don’t have to come up with a menu for dinner today!

The Contrarian did the clean up which was deeply appreciated. The dogs got turkey, gravy, and some taters. The cats strut around wondering why they never get such treats. Several of them mentioned this to me, so I guess I’ll have to come up with something. Milk doesn’t seem to be a sufficient “extra” so they say.

I’ve recognized the onset of another bout of depression. The weather has been atrocious the last few days, rainy and/or cold/windy/dark/crappy. I’m feeling awfully achy and out of sorts. The Contrarian suggested that I not walk today–“take a break” he suggested. But I figured that the sun shining today was an invitation I should not turn down. It was cold, but not too windy, and the sun was helpful I think. Anyway, I feel a bit more energized.

Mostly it’s back to business as usual. Back to studying again. It’s on to EXODUS! We all have our wildernesses don’t we? We all have our hopes in the promised land, however we define that.

Walking today, I noted that as usual, the dogs pay very little attention to me. Brandy turns around now and again, just to make sure I haven’t slipped off to a vehicle to go for a ride. Otherwise, she and Bear trot ever further ahead of me, and arrive back at the house several minutes before I do. My only real companion is Spencer.

I must say, Spencer, in his aging has mellowed. Once the hell cat from well, HeLL, he has gotten older, and is now rather a sweet older guy. He’s around tenish, give or take a few months. He walks with me, although he often lags behind on the walk to the road. Sometimes he tires and stops and waits my return. Today he walked most of the way.

Unlike the dogs, who as I said, leave me in their hurry to get back to the house, Spencer walks behind me, then races ahead, only to stop, sit and wait until I catch up. If I stop to catch my breath or turn my face to Sol, he comes and brushes against my leg, then sits patiently. He is my new buddy, more faithful than his cousins.

Kate occasionally follows in the summer, but she keeps up a constant whining complaint both up and back. Neither Calvin or Hobbes would dream of wasting their time following a human on a walk. For that matter, neither would the Contrarian.

The Contrarian believes in powered vehicles for movement. Enough said. He’s weird as you know. He’s always talking about eating and drinking anthropologically, but never seems to make the connection to the  purpose of legs and feet for movement from place to place. If he can ride, he will, even if it’s a hundred feet. He likes his tractor and his truck. He’s a man. Enough said.

I promise myself not to get “into” the hubbub of the holidays this year. Mostly I will not. We play down Christmas here. We select a “gift” that we both can enjoy. We let it go at that. I’ll feel slightly jealous and left out, but mostly I won’t. I won’t be frazzled and bedazzled. I won’t face hideous bills in January. I can concentrate only on the thing that matters–Spring!

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