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Sunday, December 4, 2005

I had a brief visit from Aiden this morning. He likes to ride in the car, and he often accompanies his mom or his dad on errands or shopping trips. Since one or the other or both of them are almost always going somewhere, he gets to go riding quite a lot. (Sometimes even when nobody has to go anywhere, Aiden still gets to go for a ride, especially if heís really tired but fighting sleep.)

He didnít get out of the car this time, but thatís not really his option. Itís up to the Big Hands people, who have to unbuckle him from his car seat and lift him out, and then perform the reverse of those operations when itís time to go. This was a quick trip. Apparently I have the only functional Christmas tree stand in the family, and since I wonít be getting a live tree this year, I didnít need it. Tammy and Aiden had gone shopping last night for their tree, which didnít sit well in the old metal stand they tried to use. Iím sure my stand was a better fit.

So I got a little face time with the superstar, which is always good for my spirits. Tammy phoned before I was even fully awake (or fully dressed), so the visit had the added advantage of moving me out of my football chair, where I otherwise might have spent about seven straight hours. (Not really, but thatís always an outside possibility on a Sunday with nothing going on. And unlike Some People, I donít crave the shopping experience enough to brave the weekend crowds.)




4 December 2005

Birch leaves in December.



Aiden didnít have much to say today, which is unlike him. I think heís not feeling quite up to par. He just passed the eighteen month mark, and in all that time heís had very few days when he didnít light up whatever room he was in, including the back seat of a minivan. His baby sister will be three months old this week, and sheís just getting over a bout with the dreaded thrush. With that many small children in one household, a day when everyone is healthy isnít as easy to come by as a day when everyone is cheerful.




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Stuff

After a day of too much football (and I was mostly right in my picks, except in the games that really counted), tonight I listened to Brian Wilsonís new album, What I Really Want for Christmas. No kidding, a new Christmas album by Brian Wilson, with mostly traditional songs and a couple of old Beach Boys classics, and it sounds like something completely different from anything you ever heard, and yet at the same time it sounds as if it were recorded in 1965. How does somebody do that? The harmony on the a capella version of ďAuld Lang SyneĒ gave me chills. (By the way, I also listened to Barroom Semantics, by Backyard Tire Fire, today.)

For other journal recommendations, check out the links page.
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One year ago: Indistinct
"Phoning the utility company didnít seem to be in order. What would I say, that the electricity hadnít gone out? That the power was still on?"


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