The in-box this afternoon includes gentle urging ("I need my wheaties" --very flattering) and sterner rebukes for the unexplained lack-of-posting the past few days. But, Dearhearts, I DID explain it to you, here. "The Evil One," as we refer to the 2-yr-old, has been sick and not sleeping. Which means Someone Else has not been sleeping either --not for days--and she cannot exactly post when she is too bleary-eyed to read, can she?
Plus, if the truth be known, the onset of cold weather and the, uh, advent of Advent has put me in the mood to bake and to dream of what extravagance can be literally cooked up for Christmas Eve dinner. Editorial pages be damned; pass the women's magazines with the cookie recipes!
To counteract this nostalgic mood, I applied a liberal dosing of The Commodore, the latest Aubrey-Maturin adventure, and now I'm engrossed in that.
But enough excuses. I will have a few items shortly. Promise.
