Given how beneficial this warming is for the insectile majority perhaps whatever small part we [and the Koch brothers] are playing in its exacerbation just means we monkeys are mere catalysts in the service of the Larger Powers, those with the exoskeletons and more subtle survival strategies…

[record crop of dead flies on studio floor, December 18, 2014]

Now that we’re in Colorado we hear National Propaganda Radio a lot more [like, for me, more than none at all] and I’m again struck by not only their endless repetition but how what they keep hammering away at might best be characterized as “all the news that’s not”; the news that’s not of the moment concerning a multinational intergalactic mega-corporate entity whose entire purpose is the conversion of mindless distractions into endless profits which is being brought down, or at least majorly inconvenienced, by shadowy entities waging a campaign against them from cyberspace whose origins are, most likely, traceable to an equally mindlessly stupid political entity.  Wow.  But this is the world we enzymes have made to live in; it’s good to put stuff like this out there as “important”, because, within the framework of last gasp capitalism, it surely and pathetically is…and putting it out there is the not news that is news, now.  For anyone fortunate enough to be a little outside that insidious loop, it’d be best to keep an eye peeled for that white boat comin’ up the river, ’cause you can definitely be sure it’s not here to deliver the mail.  Meanwhile…

Meanwhile on the warm dry ground things are definitely looking quite quiet at Libre; first day we check in on Dean, one of the few inhabitants present, where parallelograms from another dimension are invading his but all seems swell otherwise…

I decide, having had several dreams of neglecting it, to visit my studio too, though Saturday our cheese run to Gardner runs over into that time as the cheese comes late…

Sunday Linda introduces Dean to digital grandparenting, skyping Luz, Christine and Izel, who are duly aghast at her wounded hand, which did NOT happen while chopping for dinner…

Monday brought weather, and we dithered over whether to go to town…but by midmorning were off in arguably unsuitable conditions to Gardner and Pueblo for Christmas provisions, navigating the mercantile establishments [plus Jorge’s for lunch] and making it home before dark, despite…

With skies clearing and temperature dropping, we monitor our Nevada building from afar…all the way to Christmas Eve, which is now, so…

with our minimal Christmas tree…

we wish you all a Merry Christmas, or the celebration[s] of your choice[s]…

poof.