solstice: two-cat night

Slip out at the end of the day, purse strap over shoulder and CDs in hand, and look east; the hills, visible over Huntsville's skyline, are darkening fast. Look west, toward my commute, and the sun might've hung around for one last metaphorical cup of coffee but is more than likely on its way to say hello to the next time zone over.

Orion's gift

[For Christmas 2008 I have temporarily moved this entry from December 2005 back to the front page of]


It's been one of those months, in which you start tending to long-overdue tasks just because it's easier than listening to the emptiness of the house. Not that I minded … entirely; I'm notorious for liking large dollops of privacy with sprinkles on top, but this has been a bit much, even for me.I've called it the San Francisco Project, just because I don't know its real name. It's the one that sent Jeff out to—one guess—for three weeks, and promises to possibly send him out there again come February or so. It's meant not too many dinners together, unless you count my dropping off soups and the like for Jeff at his lab, and so last night was unusual.

We have our little traditions, Friday night dinner being one of them; we go out to a restaurant we like, settle in, chow down, and talk. Not purposefully, because if it were that way, we'd be doing it wrong. Just catching up.

Penguins, to forestall lectures!

I give up. I've been lectured one too many times. While I don't do many gift exchanges with friends at Christmastime, there are a few friends with whom gifting does occur, and I keep hearing through the grapevine that I am The Impossible Friend to buy for.

What was and what is

When I was a teenager, I would stay up late on Christmas Eve, an ear on the quiet in the house and a mug of hot chocolate in my hand, watching whatever TV specials were available. Christmas Day was for family, but Christmas Eve was mine alone, a day of peace and quiet and reading.

Christmas Eve is a jazz day for me, the day that I dig out my Cassandra Wilson and Diana Krall and soak myself in the quieter side of life. Christmas Day is for family and yelling and presents and food and laughter; Christmas Eve belongs to me.

Twas the week of Christmas…

Amazing. About a week before Christmas, suddenly the suburban population of Huntsville wakes up and says, collectively, "Holy shit, Christmas is next weekend?