I may have forgotten to brain brush last night, but I DID shovel. Despite snow, near neighbors and friends came to my Christmas party, including another cello and french horn. Lovely bubbly champagne, way too much food, but the buche de noel was gobbled up entirely. I went cross country skiing for two hours as the icy snow pelted my face and made utter paste of the stuff beneath my skiis. It was grueling getting back, but it was great exercise and made the fire seem all the more enticing and enveloping. Everyone came to the backdoor, dumping boots, parkas and snow before coming into the soft peach glow of my candle lit house. Only two people came to the front door, and they had never been here before so didn't know the back door drill; I love having "backdoor neighbors."
Champagne glasses are washed and sparkly, the counter is still sticky, but Shadow and I trekked a mile through the snowy Wissahickon and then shoveled out my car so that I can take Max to Oliver this afternoon. Life is good. My brain is brushed, my thoughts are joyful and the days is promising.
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