Do you know what I need?
To escape into the mountains, surrounded by tall trees.
I will lay on the moss, and breathe in the scent of mushrooms,
flowers and wet soil.
L’ Échappée, Les Discrets
It was a smashing success.
And now I'm spending the weekend grappling with my jet-lag, which has me in bed by nine (in a doze-off-doze-on again kind of way, if that makes any sense), and wide awake at 3 a.m. which is, quite frankly, downright boring. There's isn't a lot to do around here at 3 a.m., minus a brisk mountain run with the bears.
Actually, it almost feels like time stands still for this little Northeast Georgia hamlet. Aside from the recently-new editor of the local paper, that is (who allegedly can spell); and the recently-new sheriff (who did not have a rumored DUI like his predecessor). To be honest, I was a little sad to hear about these replacements. In one fell swoop, the town lost a great deal of its
It's good to be home.
Late tonight, when all twelve of us (plus a fiance, one or two girlfriends, and, most likely, a few strays) are in the same house again, we are having our yearly Christmas Tree-Trimming Party, the one wherein we turn on the old Christmas vinyls, get out the funky ornaments and thirty-something nutcrackers, and eat leftover pie. It's gonna' be grand.
And there was much rejoicing and an absurd amount of coffee.
H a p p y C h r i s t m a s S e a s o n ,
E v e r y o n e !