In Which There Are Six Kinds of Bread

24 December 2003

Well, hey. Good morning. It's Christmas Eve. I've never written a journal entry on Christmas Eve before. As far as I know, my folks and my old folks are all nestled snug in their beds still; I have to go downstairs and cut into the multitude of loaves of sweet breads. I believe what we've got is banana, cranberry, pistachio, apple, ginger, and pumpkin, the last three being my contributions.

Then out on the stairs there arose etc. etc. My father's up. I'm sorry, people; you're just not going to get much journal today. I have other things to do, people to see, places to go. Nouns, is what I've got, and also verbs, and that's the way we like it.

Yesterday, I did errands and errands and tasks and tasks. And then I took a break to have dinner with Sarah and Jeff, and then we opened presents with C.J. before he headed to Eau Claire, and then I went back to chores and chores while Mark and Timprov played Unexploded Cow with Sarah and Jeff. (Like Siri and Cinderella, that's me.) The grands and Onie arrived safely in the early evening, and the folks got here before midnight, which was really all we could ask.

And today, soon, I'll be making the chowdah and heading out on my dad's and my traditional Christmas Eve Day Thing. We've claimed Southdale/France Ave. this year, so Mark and Mom can go wherever else they will. We are Christmas Eve present people, sort of; it's not that we won't have presents other days, but this is the one with my side of the family. So. Merry Christmas. Whether it's your holiday or not, I hope you have a good one. And remember it has twelve days, not one or even two....

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