On Christmas Day, You Can Drive as Slowly as You Want

With my local family temporarily under the weather, the holiday is waiting a day or so while they recuperate and I stay the heck out of the infectious zone.

Yesterday was dark and drear and rainy and wonderfully evocative, even if not horribly cold, and I spent a bit of it antiquing with a lovely friend.  Today, it is what my dad would have filled his lungs, smiled, and called "a glorious day" - again not very cold, bright and blue-sky-ed, clear and breezy and beautiful.

I hadn't made a plan except to wrap the interminably-delayed presents and perhaps work on some research for the WIP novel; but, this morning, when mom woke me up at 9:00 to wish me a merry Christmas, after lolling about in bed with the furbabies for a bit, it came to me.  We all got up, I put on clothes that can be seen in public, she went in the yard for a little while, and I checked email and so on.  About eleven o'clock, I went out to ask her if she wanted to go for a ride.

And we went to go see my dad.

Dad's in a memorial garden near where he taught for many years; and so, after a little exploring in the quiet, walled-in space where he rests, we took a little bit of a walk.  Penelope was bullied by the cutest, tiniest little dachshund you ever saw, and curled up as small as a sixty-pound mass of muscle can get, submissive to the one tiny little bruiser out of three dogs all out together.  Never saw her quite like that, but otherwise she enjoyed the walk.

There were some birds on the water; dark plumage and swimming unusually low, beaks longer and pointier, but just as orange as a duck.  One nearby dove under the ripples and stayed down a good while.  I was half tempted to think it was a Great Blue, but have never seen one do that and what little I saw of the body, surely it had to be too small.  Interesting, though.

Coming home, my spazzy window-hanger was actually tired, and she curled up on the back seat and I think may have gone to sleep.  Sweet.  Perhaps she liked the high-pitched music of Switched-on Bach, or really was just tuckered after going visitin'.  She'd made a beeline, when we walked into the garden, to dad's niche.


Now, I'm in the office with Gossie.  He lies on his window seat, and Pen is in the living room I believe, napping on my grandmother's thick wool rug, in the ray of sunshine in there.

I may have to take their example; napping, even if not in a sunbeam (though the chaise might be good for that).

Hoping all who celebrate it are enjoying as peaceful a Christmas as this, and even more joyous.  And, for those who just enjoy the quiet:  save some dumplings and veggie fried rice for me!