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Archive for December, 2005

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Dec 28

Christmas gluttony

Christmas came and Christmas went. And what a Christmas it was. I feel like a glutton now and not merely because of candy (which if anyone wants some, come and get it. We have hard candy, gummy candy, various sorts of chocolate candy, cupcakes, cookies, icecream and soda. yug) but because I made out like a bandit for Christmas. Friends and family have been so generous to me this Christmas I can hardly take it. But the best has come. Yes, my laptop, something I have needed for so long (I still remember, Josh, how you so kindly sent that laptop to me in Oregon when I so desperately needed it) well, something i have needed for a long time has made it. Through the gracious bestowing of Jeffery C. Eaton. and Wow, do I love it. I would ramble off the specs but I don't know them. Neither do I care. All I really know is that it's widescreen, is bursting with memory, has a word processor (of course it does! you say but yes. I'm still delighted over it) is light and sprightly and looks and is extremely competent. Oh, and it has a built in something for me to stick a memory card from a camera into! Geez. I love it so. I'm not sure how I got so fortunate as to have it but I'm not asking any questions!

errrrrrrrrrrrr….after gloating over my dearest laptop, I think I need a rest. I'll write more later! I do want to add though…this year's holidays has been some of the best I've ever had. It's been a good good time with really great people.

Dec 20

Another Christmas

Another Christmas, another story.
The holiday is on the march, as is my birthday. I'm not particularly thrilled over getting older but I'm so glad Jeff finally showed up.
The new job is good- even though there's loads of little nitpicky things to know, it's not a bad job and my co-workers are very nice and relaxed. Things move at a different pace there- I sometimes wonder if that's due to the fact they don't play music over the speakers. It's silent. Sometimes I just stand there and listen to the beautiful beautiful silence.
My writing is something that happens. I even started a new story today. I was thinking about Concord and Hawthorne and Thoreau, Emerson and Alcott. And I was thinking about Orchard House where the Alcotts lived. The darkness of those houses with unpainted wood. The darkness of houses back then. And a story started making itself in the snow. Something about back then with the hint of me taking a glance at it.

I'm lucky that living in Batavia now isn't the prison it was for me 13 years ago. There is no prison now.