I got caught behaving like my father today. I finally wrapped a few presents to put under the tree, but I couldn't bear to put them on a tree skirt covered in dropped spruce needles. One of my husband's favorite Christmas memories with my family was the one year my dad had a real tree, and he kept a fully charged Dust Buster so close, it was probably in a hip holster, so he could catch needles before they could hit the carpet. So when Mr S-P came around the corner, and I was vacuuming under the tree, I heard a snicker right before I got called by my dad's name. Sure, whatever, but it looks a lot better under my tree now.
There was a steady snowfall all day, fairly heavy even though it didn't add up too much on the ground. Oddly, rather than keeping us inside, it encouraged us to get out and play. Before the dogs could get out and ruin the fresh snow this morning, I dragged the cats outside, and gently tossed them out off the patio. I don't think anyone was as amused as I. They all ran back to the door before I could get really good pictures. Or at least good portraits. The pictures are rather evocative of the moment, and the season. So perhaps I shall let them be worth a thousand words.
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