Once everyone was safely nestled eight miles up that dirt road it snowed again [lightly]…

and the Festivities

including, but not limited to,

small walks,

pizzelles with Izel,

[and Lefty, ever the expect-a-vore]

the annual Illumination of Crystal Vessel [hard to see here]

light white snowfalls,

popcorn-stringings

and popcorn-string hangings, commenced.

Small walks, as dictated by the Twisted Foot,

which was taken to La Veta

for consultation, ministrations and a fine fun dinner with friends after.

More mornings of abbreviated walks,

road hazards…

found objects in need of future restoration found,

Tuesday’s snowman a lesson in mortality; Linda’s Trigger another Object of a Future Project

and the whiplash weather ever interesting.

…exterior as well as interior.

Thursday night, with Hannah “Banana/Breath” in attendance,

we all enjoyed a spectacular dinner of beercan chicken [scientifically proven, according to Ira PlayDoh’s resident scientist/nerds, to have no bearing whatsoever on the succulence of the fowl.  These are probably the moral equivalent of those geniuses who can’t figure out if dogs think [though they may have figured out that some have fleas], exactly what one might expect from a propaganda outlet confident, for months on end, that no Orange Beast could ever win election. I imagine, given their charter [chatter?], we’ll be hearing a much different cant, and soon.  Even if THEIR dogs can’t think, ours will know the diff.].  Beercan chicken, a succulent and excellent surfin’ bird;

Saturday was another gorgeous morning, but later on colds in the heads wiped some of us so out that Christmas Eve’s subsequent sub-zero salmon barbecue had to be canceled

leaving  L. and me to our snuffly selves with just a tiny little Christmas Eve Christmas sans Cava,

which nonetheless comprised delightful surprises, and early to bed.

And a retroactively Merry Christmas to All, a hey hey.

 

M