Just stuff tonight:
The air is calm and crisp and so clear that with the light of the full moon the jet contrails still shimmer. It's the kind of night where you stop and take a deep breath and the peace of the evening fills you. So pretty, with the top of the car beginning to frost and the grass glinting with stars and the long, cold pull in your nose that snaps you back to evenings spent playing in tents and picking apples and nights where ghost stories and thick sleeping bags were the only thing that kept you from freezing solid.
(I keep forgetting it's November and thinking of late September, when we'd beg to pitch the tent one more night, Mom! in the woods behind the house and carry every blanket out of the house to stay un-popsicled before daylight.)
This is what you get when you don't supervise the four year old 'writing' (Coysive writing, Mama! It's coysive!) a letter to her grandparents. Note to self: Your address labels? Would not have fallen prey to interested fingers if you'd let dinner be late.
I did manage to bust up the party before she hauled out the glitter glue. (Fear not, Mom! I sent you a transcript along with.)
SO DISAPPOINTED. My mother, who isn't computer-literate past getting emails (and has health issues that won't let her climb stairs to get to the computer AND won't move the computer downstairs because it wouldn't be pretty)asked me for a print-out of my blog. I cut-and-pasted the first year, but that was before I really got going and frankly it would be a nightmare to do that for the last two plus years.... A friend suggested Blurb.com, which takes blogs and 'slurps' them to create books, but it won't work for Blogger...there's a solution available (It involves me re-creating my blogger blog on another platform and then pulling it back) but it all seems like a giganticus pain in the behindicus. *whine* This was going to be so easy!!
The window is still tacky and not dry.
We're all on cat-hair watch and clapping the cats out of the kitchen, but it's only a matter of time before one of them decides to baptize it. Argh.
My husband is downloading (and playing) Christmas carols. For the love of Pete.
Off to bed, with the moonlight streaming over the covers.....