The cold has made its way into my head, insulating my thoughts and muffling the sounds of voices, laughter, and ringing phones. My head is a giant, heavy, pulsating, hot appendage on an otherwise cold, weak body. No asana practice for me over the past 7 days. Maybe tomorrow I could manage. Maybe tomorrow.
It’s been cold here. The past few mornings I’ve had to scrape the ice from my windshield with a defunct credit card. Had it rained, it would’ve snowed instead.
Christmas is coming whether I’m ready or not, so I figure I better prepare myself. I’ll finish my shopping this evening just in time for an appearance at a white elephant party later on. I’ve been waiting two years for just such an occasion to get rid of this horrid giant, hand painted ostrich egg suspended from the mouth of a giraffe carved from bone given to us as a gift (but not a white elephant). Some poor sucker will be stuck with it after tonight. But it won’t be me.
Lalo has been singing louder than usual. When asked what makes our wines so good, sometimes I answer “Lalo sings to the barrels.” Today I asked him why he’s singing so much lately. “My children love the Christmas. This is why I am happy.”
The simple joys of the season.