Hope everyone has a healthy,fulfilling and prosperous new year with lots of blessings!

мѣсѧца дєкѧбр҄ја иг въ навєчєриѥ рождьства хрьстова єванћєлиѥ отъ лѹкъі глава в въ оно врѣмѧ изідє заповѣдь отъ кєсарѣ авгоста напісаті в҄сѫ вьсєлєнѫѭ | сє напісаніє пръвоє бъістъ владѫщѹ сѹрієѭ и кѵрінієѭ | и идѣахѫ вьсі напісатъ сѧ кьждо въ свои градъ | вьзідє жє иосіфь отъ галілєѧ и града назарєтьска вь июдєѭ вь градъ давъідовъ іжє наріцаєтъ сѧ віѳлєємь занє бѣашє отъ домѹ и отьчьствіѣ давъідова | напісатъ сѧ съ марієѭ обрѫчєнѫѭ ємѹ жєноѭ сѫштєѭ нєпраздъноѭ | бъістъ жє єгда бъістє тѹ исплънишѧ сѧ дєниє да родітъ | и роді съінъ свои пръвѣнєць и обитъі и и положі и въ ѣслєхъ занє нє бѣ има мѣста въ обитѣли | и пастъирі бѣахѫ въ тоиждє ст҄ранѣ бъдѧщє и стрѣгѫщє стражѫ нощьнѫѭ о стадѣ своємъ | и сє анћєлъ господьнь ста вь нихъ и слава господьнѣ осіѣ ѧ и ѹбоѣшѧ сѧ ст҄рахомъ вєлиємъ | и рєчє имъ анћєлъ нє боитє сѧ сє бо благовѣщаѭ вамъ радость вєліѭ ѣжє бѫдєт бьсѣмь людємъ | ѣко роді сѧ вамъ съпасъ іжє єстъ христъ господь въ градѣ давъідовѣ | и сє вамъ з҄намєниє обрѧстєтє младьнєць повітъ и лєжѧшть вь ѣслєхъ | и вънєзаапѫ бъістъ съ ангѣломъ м҄ножьство вои нєбєснъіих хвалѧштиихъ бога и глаголѭшть | сла въ въішніих богѹ и на зєми миръ въ чловѣцѣхъ благоволєниє | и бъістъ ѣко отідѫ оть ніхъ анћєлі на нєбо и чловѣци пастъирі рѣшѧ дрѹгь кь дрѹгѹ прѣидѣмъ ѹбо до віѳлєома и відімъ глаголь сь бъівьшіи єгожє господь съказа нам | и прѣидѫ под҄вігьшє сѧ и обрѣтѫ маріѭ и иосифа и младьнєць лєжѧшть вь ѣслєхъ | видѣвъшє жє ськазашѧ о глаголѣ глаголанѣмь о отрочѧті сємъ | и въсі слъішавъшє дівішѧ сѧ о глаголанъіихъ отъ пастъирь кь німъ | маріѣ жє вьсѧ съблюдаашє глаголъі сіи въ срьдьци своємъ | и възвратішѧ сѧ пастъірі славѧштє и хвалѧштє бога о в҄сѣхъ ѣжє слъішашѧ и відѣшѧ ѣкожє глаголано бъисть кь нимъ |

I found it here. My favorite line of that was always и рєчє имъ анћєлъ нє боитє сѧ (i rehcheh imə angehlih neh boiteh sã - and the angel said, fear not), mostly because I like the way it sounds. We that was always the last translation exercise in Old Church Slavic class before winter break (the professor always made sure OCS was offered fall term). It was kinda cool.

*grins*

Xopher, I have a jar of ecumenical Etrog/Buddha's Hand citron marmalade with your name on it.

'Twas The Night Before Christmas - my contribution to general holiday cheer, a single-sheet typesetting of the famous poem. With PDF version for reading by the fire with care, if you've a mind to.

Merry Christmas, Happy (Belated) Solstice &c to our hosts and all assembled!

I love the way this sounds like you're hearing it as a procession passes by. It's also the first version I ever heard, so ones with more "proper" pronunciation sound wrong to me now. :-)

The priest at vigil Mass sang such a blessing down upon us that I had to unbow my head and look. I have never seen such an expression on his face; he was afire with joy. May we all find, or pursue, such a calling this coming year.

I can't help noticing the prevalence of wintry themes in a lot of the postings about Christmas here and elsewhere. There's nothing wrong with that but here in this corner of the Southern Hemisphere, it has been a warm sunny day, and the only snow we're thinking of is the kind in cones. So lest any of us from warmer climes feel the need for a break from sleigh bells and snowmen, here's an Australian Christmas song (and it's atheist-friendly too so we'll have no bah-ing or humbuggery).

White Wine in the Sun by Tim Minchin

It is, indeed, a blessing to come home from the candlelight service and find this here. Thank you.

Two Aviators
A Tale of the Spontoon Islands

"Argus Control to Thunderbird One, over."

Lady Helen pressed the switch under her pinky finger. "Argus Control, go ahead."

"Target, range ninety, altitude angels two four, bearing zero zero four.
Intercept and identify."

Lady Helen scanned the gauges, fuel in particular, and eased her plane into a
gentle climb, turning onto the vector. "Roger that, Thunderbird one turning onto
bearing and climbing."

There wasn't silence, just noise from the big radial engine overlaid with the
crackling in her headphones and the faint whine from the turbocharger.

"Thunderbird One, come port to three fiver seven. Target speed is three one
zero. Range eighty two, holding altitude."

She blinked twice, making that slight turn. 310 knots was fast at this altitude.
Sure, there was less drag in the thin air, and less for the airscrew to bit
into, less for the engine to breathe. Here eyes glanced of the flow meter for
her oxygen, engine oil pressure, cylinder head temperature, fuel flow, all the
myriad technicalities which kept her flying and alive, so high in the winter
twilight. This high she was still in the last of the sunlight, the red glow to
the southwest.

She would make this intercept, she figured, almost three hundred miles from
home. She'd have to be careful of her fuel. And with that thought she adjusted
the mixture a fraction, a little leaner, compensating for the increase in
altitude, burning less of her precious petrol at the expense of a slightly
higher engine temperature, a little closer to that red line,

"Argus Control, Thunderbird One, any idea where this came from? I don't recall
anything on the charts this side of the Aleutians."

"Thunderbird One, we're as puzzled as you are. Might be Russian. Your guess is
as good as mine."

"Roger that." Lady Helen grinned for a moment. It was hardly likely to be an
innocent traveller, now was it. But she didn't want to flick toe lock off the
firing button, not on this night. It was coming straight for the Spontoons, as
near as she could judge. Maybe it was a reconnaisance plane. "Please don't let
it be hostile." She didn't key the microphone.

And if it was hostile? Her kids were on the Spontoons. She wasn't going to do
anything crazy, but she could keep them safe, whichever night it was. She'd seen
London in the blitz, and seen the mansion she'd been raised in crumbling in
flames, and she'd seen that you couldn't kill a city.

You still could kill a lot of people.

She was going to come at the target from the east, out of the night sky, almost
invisible. If it was hostile, if she did attack, maybe the first they'd know of
her presence was the impact of the 20mm shells. She hoped that they would die
quickly. Better that than to drop into the sea on a parachute on a dark winter
night, lost and alone. She knew that, even in a Songmark Suit such as she wore,
the chances of being rescued were zero. Better to let the cold northern ocean
suck the heat from your body, and kill you before you knew it.

Maybe even better not to bother opening your parachute, but she knew that they'd
come looking for her if she was in the water. She had to give them a chance.

The Thunderbird Squadron didn't give up.

She switched on the radio direction indicator. It needed time to warm up. The
weight of the pod meant that one of the guns in the starboard wing had been
removed. Better that than reducing the fuel carried. It meant a slightly
different aileron trim, even then.

The Luftwaffe had started flying at night because they couldn't live over London
by daylight. It had mostly been the Hurricanes of the RAF even as the Spitfires
got the publicity. Thunderbird Squadron, and three Naval Syndicate squadrons,
contracted to the Dominion of Canada, had arrived at the end of August. Ugly
planes, some had said, but they had been built with the range to fly a long way,
fight a battle, and return to base. They carried heavier guns. And they had
trained to fight the highly maneuverable fighter planes of Cipangu: no twisting
and turning, but speed and energy were the roots of the way she fought.

She hadn't looked at her ASI as she'd come of of the sun at the Heinkels over
the Thames, but it had happened with incredible speed. Pick your target, shoot,
hope you didn't collide, and pull up into a zoom climb. She hadn't seen the
debris frying off her targets until the camera-gun films had been developed. She
didn't realise she had been shot at until Antoinette had complained about having
to patch the holes.

Her plane had her name painted on the fuselage, just below the port side
windscreen frame, and below it were three little rising sun flags and as many
swastikas.

"Argus Control, Thunderbird One, I have contact. Closing to visual range. Over."

What could it be that wouldn't be hostile? She flicked off the safety lock.

Five miles. The scope was showing the target, a little higher than she was. It
would be a dot against the flow of the sunset, while she would be lost in the
shadow of the night. Four miles. Was that a light?

Lady Helen eased back on the throttle and turned to fly close formation. She
could see the pilot--of course he was the pilot, he was controlling a a
transport aircraft. He might be wearing red, and she couldn't see any sign of an
oxygen mask, but for sure he was an aviator, doing his job.

He looked at her and waved. She waved back, and then took a moment to scan her
instruments, making a point of checking her oxygen flowmeter.

"Argus Control, Thunderbird One, I have visual contact. Over."

"Thunderbird One, is the target friendly? Over?"

She looked at the sleight just beyond her wingtip, and the six reindeer, and the
red glow of the nose of the lead. "Argus Control, target is friendly." She waved
again. "Returning to base. Over."

"You're sure?" After all, what flew at those speeds and altitudes.

She was on the right heading for the Spontoons. "Repeat, Target friendly." She
grinned beneath her mask. "Classify it as a scheduled overnight cargo flight,
inbound to the Spontoons from the North Pole."

She waggled her wings, gained a little separation, and did a slow barrel roll
around the sleigh, letting it pull away as she set her engine for range instead
of speed. "Argus Control, Merry Christmas. Thunderbird One returning to base."

Best wishes for 2011.

The smallest string of white Christmas lights was enough for the tree itself. The strings of colored lights have been plied together (green twist ties are just the right color) and coiled into a loose collar around the pot. On the table in front of that, the plastic dinosaurs are arranged en diorama.

I've tried to get some photos. I'll try again later when the lights are on in the room. Right now, Elise is asleep on the sofa.

I have some baking to do now, and after that I have to get the roast into the oven. It's about 120 degrees of a standing rib roast of pork, which was all my grocery had left at the end of the day after advertising standing rib roast for $3.99 a pound. I also have a couple of nice little whole pork tenderloins to keep it from feeling lonely.

With it we'll have stuffing (though not in the heroic quantities we had at Thanksgiving), an assortment of roasted root vegetables, some little red beets I've had pickling in a spiced marinade for two weeks, a big green salad, and sliced fresh baguettes with very good butter and/or pureed roast red peppers and/or harissa.

And after that, there'll be no dessert at all unless I go get it into the oven now.

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and happy weekend to those who don't. You all make my life much better.

This moose learned at a fairly early age to not buy live, potted, Christmas trees. (Or, if you do, give them to someone else afterwards, rather than planting them in your garden.) The trio I can see from the kitchen window are now approximately 40 feet high, much to the annoyance of one neighbour. (It's also a bad idea to plant things like Ash and Maple....)

Merry Christmas/Seasons Greeting to one and all.

As far as I'm concerned, planting trees is a good thing! (And why are Ash and Maple particular problems?)

Down in VA we've got a Winter Storm Watch, but the snow, if any, isn't supposed to hit until late tonight. I was going to go out for Chinese food tonight, but it just occurred to me that on the other side of me is a really good Indian place....

So my father, my daughter and I set out with the toboggan. We weren't the only ones choosing to get our tree that way; there was another family there with theirs when we were picking our tree. And the guy at the tree lot was certainly adept at tying them onto sleds.

We were the only ones singing English carols on the walk home, however.

-----
* We'd had to drive into the nearest town to replace some of my mother's clothing, since her luggage was another victim of the snowpocalypse. It was not an easy thing to do; we nearly lost traction on the upslope to one bridge. And the road to the tree lot was less-salted than the road to town.

I'm up in Westchester county with my sister's family.

My nieces are getting The Twelve Days of Christmas . . . an envelope each day with a small gift card or a lottery scratcher or small gift, like a rave blinky. One niece already won $5.00.

I have a serious load of chocolate to work through.

And it sounds like we'll be having a Boxing Day Blizzard . . .

We may be seeing the arrival of a border collie pup we'll be charged with amusing until his/her new owner gets off work at 3:30pm. My sister makes large assumptions about our tolerance.

I am tempted to go dig up even more appropriate Latin, but there may be a sufficient quantity at this point.

Thank you all, and may the blessings of the season be with you all the year round.

The two "children" in this house (both of us in our 40s) were heard to bemoan the lack of chocolates for Christmas stockings. I dug out a few peppermint candies to go in, but that's not enough, darn it! This elf-subcontractor may have to buy some Ghirardelli chocolates tomorrow and sneak them in my sister's stocking. (And some for me, too, of course!)

Or maybe not, because Atlanta is expecting its first measurable Christmas snowfall since the 1880s. Hasn't started yet, but the National Weather Service is saying 100% chance of snow here today.

I've had cinnamon rolls and coffee; pretty soon I'll get dressed. I have some new catnip mouses to give the cats. Then I'll disassemble the turkey and start making turkey broth.

Eta guerta cedin egun hetan ethor baitzedin ordenança-bat Cesar Augustoren partez, scribuz iar ledin mundua oro.
(Lehen descriptione haur eguin cedin Cyrenius Syriaco gobernadore cenean)
Eta ioaiten ciraden guciac scributan iartera, batbedera cein bere hirirát.
Igan cedin bada Ioseph-ere Galileatic, Nazaretheco hiritic, Iudeara, Dauid-en ciuitate Bethlehem deitzen denera (ceren baitzén Dauid-en etchetic eta arraçatic)
Scributan iar ledinçát Maria emaztetan eman içan çayonarequin, cein baitzén içorra.
Eta guertha cedin hec han ciradela, compli baitzitecen haren ertzeco egunac.
Eta erdi cedin bere seme lehen iayoaz, eta bandatoz trocha ceçan hura, eta eçar ceçan mangederán, ceren ezpaitzén hayendaco lekuric ostalerián.
Eta ciraden comarca berean artzain campoetan ceunçanac, eta gauazco veillác bere arthaldearen gainean beguiratzen cituztenac.
Eta huná, Iaunaren Aingueruä vstegaberic ethor cequién, eta Iaunaren gloriác argui ceçan hayén inguruän, eta icidura handiz ici citecen.
Orduan erran ciecén Aingueruäc, Etzaretela beldur: ecen huná, euangelizatzen drauçuet bozcario handi populu guciaren içanen dena:
Ecen Dauid-en ciuitatean iayo çaiçuela Saluadorea, cein baita Christ Iauna.
Eta haur vkanen duçue seignale, eridenen baituçue haourra bandatoz trochatua, mangederán eçarria.
Eta bertan Aingueruärequin eguin cedin armada celestial multzobat, laudatzen çutela Iaincoa, eta cioitela,
Gloria ceru guciz goretan Iaincoari, eta lurrean baque, guiçonac baithara vorondate ona.
Eta guertha cedin, hetaric Aingueruäc cerurat ioan ciradenean, erran baitzeçaten artzainec elkarren artean, Goacen bada Bethlehemerano, eta dacussagun eguin içan den gauça haur, cein Iaunac iaquin eraci baitraucu.
Eta ethor citecen lehiatuqui, eta eriden citzaten Maria eta Ioseph, eta haourtchoa mangederán eçarria.
Eta ikussi vkan çutenean, publica ceçaten haourtchoaz erran içan çayena.
Eta ençun vkan cituzten guciéc mirets ceçaten hæy artzainéz erran içan çaizten gaucén gainean.
Eta Mariac beguiratzen cituen gauça hauc guciac, bere bihotzean ehaiten cituela.
Eta itzul citecen artzainac, glorificatzen eta laudatzen çutela Iaincoa, ençun eta ikussi vkan cituzten gauça guciéz, erran içan cayen beçala.

Luke 2:1-20--in Basque

I didn't make it to Midnight Mass, so I went to dawn Mass instead, and am now singing along with "For Unto Us a Child is Born" from you-know-what. "And His name shall be calleth -- Wonderful!!!"

My tree is this tabletop 21" tall metal thingummy from Ikea, strung with teeny tiny lights (also from Ikea) and miniature gold and red ornaments from a craft store.

I have not yet found a Nativity scene that I can live with, but I continue to look. Maybe next year.

Thank you all for your friendship. May we all have a blessed day.

Hyperlocal Christmas Day News: Christmas Day is being spent in a Hobbittean state of nature. Barefoot, well-fed and vaguely contemplative, in other words. Much preferable to that nasty, brutish and short stuff. Second Brunch is being seriously considered. Genteel intoxication quite likely to commence after Second Brunch.

[0] I keep wanting to type that title as "White WHINE in the Sun", which would be quite a different song. Possibly about Teabaggers, or other beings best not considered at present.

Our tree this year is the tallest we've ever had, at just over nine feet. (Last year's was the bushiest, and therefore by far the heaviest.)

Standing rib roast in oven, time to go make batter for Yorkshire pudding, precook carrots and creamed spinach, and await the descent of friends for dinner.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good day!

And since we have Quenya, here's a translation into a lesser-known otherworldly language, Old Querrian.

Tasarru dunau víka senthéka dauptru i Augustúkau Kaisarkau, mêgniru halka nóhu. Heutni gi megnerru mepmeterruka Kuréni i Siríthi. Lorrusu vi tlérumuku halka λaushu emégnuku.

Rosu hi Ióséfi Nasarathkau tlérumkau pmón i Galírithi Davídiku tlérumku i Iúdáthi, i Béthlehem hevitnu, emégniku Mariamtni i rouha, mamaiha shi. Pé vi ránau Davídikau hi neukau, gadrukau hi. Várthi shi létka usta semnéshi i sîsra, heu shi ïási sis, tumnbdeu shi oron tákkarda gómanku, hanshasthi ránau aldu ahar.

Lé dunau búthi i vahar íómusis gagamsha notnór, i tleubashthi havanshara λerémi mamásaku. Usta di Bár durusis, itíshaipta vi ptar Bár ptórru, súsra vi bdísh.

Otlu vi “Tí aüsúsurru. Dai ránau üasi rúmnnu i ludrunu, i halka nohu tupu tâsaku. Sisirra ránau ió hamnalu Davídithi tlérumthi alshasis i Kiristú Bár pé. Dímn di kailu, shonsi thoilu i ututumnbdeuk oron gómanthi kakarda.” Iór di ilis durustni ian orku torkiam i semnéshi, totógmnu vi Gamhasi, fásharru vi “Ptórru i ilisthi mopmósuthi Gamhaku, búthai hi kairru gegeulerruthi tnórthi.”

Our usual tree (of the artifical variety, now on its 8th year or so) is looking more like a cypress than a fir this year -- we have a kitten, and she and the older (by a couple of years) cat have decided that the tree makes a wonderful playplace. Fortunately, they discovered this before we'd put any ornaments on the tree. So all of the branches have been bent down, and the candy canes which we did put on the tree have been hunted to near extinction.

Well, at least it waited until dark.

La evangelio laŭ Luko 2:1-14

1. Kaj en tiuj tagoj eliris dekreto de Cezaro Auxgusto, ke la tuta mondo estu registrita.

2. CXi tiu estis la unua registrado, farita, kiam Kirenio estis reganto de Sirio.

3. Kaj cxiuj iris, por esti registritaj, cxiu al sia urbo.

4. Kaj Jozef ankaux supreniris el Galileo, el la urbo Nazaret, en Judujon, al la urbo de David, kiu estas nomata Bet-Lehxem, cxar li estis el la domo kaj familio de David,

5. por esti registrita kun sia fiancxino Maria, kiu estis graveda.

6. Kaj dum ili estis tie, venis la tagoj por sxia akusxo.

7. Kaj sxi naskis sian unuan filon, kaj sxi cxirkauxvindis lin kaj kusxigis lin en staltrogon, cxar ne estis loko por ili en la gastejo.

8. Kaj en tiu sama regiono estis pasxtistoj, kiuj kamplogxis kaj nokte gardis sian gregon.

9. Kaj angxelo de la Eternulo alstaris apud ili, kaj la gloro de la Eternulo brilis cxirkaux ili, kaj ili timis per granda timo.

10. Kaj la angxelo diris al ili:Ne timu; cxar jen mi venigas al vi bonan sciigon de granda gxojo, kiu estos al la tuta popolo;

11. cxar hodiaux estas naskita por vi, en la urbo de David, Savanto, kiu estas Kristo, la Sinjoro.

12. Kaj jen la signo por vi:vi trovos infaneton, cxirkauxvinditan kaj kusxantan en staltrogo.

13. Kaj subite estis kun la angxelo amaso de la cxiela armeo, lauxdante Dion, kaj dirante:

14. Gloro al Dio en la supera alto, Kaj sur la tero paco, inter homoj Difavoro.

---------------

From The Sword Project Bible Texts and Translations via The Unbound Bible.

We spent Christmas with parents, siblings, kittens, cats, puppies, and dogs. (My parents, with two bouncy kittens, went the small artificial tabletop tree route. In-laws, with 6 bouncy boxers of varying ages, went the no-tree route.) Delicious homemade coffeecakes and lasagnas were eaten and lots of love and laughter shared. It's snowing a bit; I have hope it will be pretty but not make travel dangerous tomorrow.

And now, after homemade hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps in, I think it is bedtime. To all a good night!

In other news, the glass platter on which rested the roast beast was placed on a hot tray and promptly broke in about seventeen pieces. A little judicious carving solved the secondary problem of glass bits in the meat. The first problem was solved by shifting it to a ceramic platter.

Never a dull moment.

1. En amzer-se e voe embannet ul lezenn a-berzh Kezar-Aogust, evit ma vije graet ar gont eus tud ar bed holl.
2. Ar gont kentañ-se a voe graet e-pad ma oa Kiriniuz gouarner Siria.
3. Dre-se an holl a yae evit lakaat o anv, pep hini en e gêr.
4. Jozef ivez a bignas eus Galilea da Judea, eus kêr Nazared da gêr David anvet Betlehem, dre ma oa eus tiegezh hag eus familh David,
5. evit reiñ e anv gant Mari e wreg, hag a oa dougerez.
6. E-pad ma oant eno, an amzer ma tlee gwilioudiñ a erruas,
7. hag e c'hanas he mab kentañ-ganet, hag e mailhuras anezhañ, hag e lakaas anezhañ en ur c'hraou, abalamour ne oa ket plas evito en ostaleri.
8. Bez' e oa er memes korn-bro mêsaerien a gouske er parkeier, hag a ziwalle o loened e-pad beilhadennoù an noz.
9. Setu un ael eus an Aotrou en em ziskouezas dezho ha gloar an Aotrou a lugernas en-dro dezho, hag o devoe ur spont bras.
10. Neuze an ael a lavaras dezho: N'ho pet ket aon, rak setu e tegasan deoc'h ur c'heloù mat, a vo un abeg a levenez vras evit an holl bobl,
11. rak ganet eo hiziv deoc'h, e kêr David, ur Salver, hag a zo ar C'hrist, an Aotrou.
12. Setu amañ ur sin deoc'h: c'hwi a gavo ur bugel bihan mailhuret ha gourvezet en ur c'hraou.
13. Ha kerkent e voe gant an ael ul lod bras eus arme an neñv, o veuliñ hag o lavarout:
14. Gloar da Zoue el lec'hioù uhel-meurbet, ha peoc'h war an douar e-touez an dud karet gantañ!

And thank *you* for your recommendation of Spice, which I asked for and got; I now foresee some interesting cooking this year!

The cat is chattering at the birds on the bird feeder, we are making brewed-coffee mochas, and everyone is enjoying a snowy Sunday.

Stay safe, everyone.

I'm very happy to take credit where none is due, but I don't think that can have been me. It looks like a wonderful book, though, so afiyet olsun (or bon appetit, as they say in England.

I've been learning a few new Turkish recipes from this blog recently. (It's in my RSS feed , but doesn't update as often as I'd really like. But the archive is good.)

and laid him in a manger, because the innkeeper had said there was no room for them in the inn, so that Joseph slew him, yea him and all his family, and mingled the ashes of the inn with the ashes of their bones.

That was a lovely rendition you linked to - much nicer than the arrangement we sang during the carols before Midnight Mass this year.

Thanks also to everyone who posted texts (I, too, am particularly fond of the LOLcat version).

Tonight is my time to decompress from the holiday. Christmas Eve was spent with my in-laws visiting us for dinner, followed by singing at Midnight Mass. Christmas morning was spent at my sister-in-law's for breakfast, followed by presents with my husband's side of the family. Next, back home to make the ice cream we had been enjoined to make to accompany the evening's desert. Then over to my grandmother's house for presents with my family, and Christmas dinner cooked by my mom and brother.

I am also pleased to note that most of the over-abundance from the previous week's candy making spree has found its way into the homes of friends and family, and remained in those homes.

Beowatch.

I've been a bit distracted lately for the usual sorts of reasons (houseguest, finals, the Christmas Season in Retail).

There has also been some other drama in my life, none of it unusual, save that for each of us it comes in its own time. Knowing I am well thought of here has been a comfort in all sorts of weather.

In the good times, and the bad times. Making Light has helped me to be more like Scrooge; keeping the spirit of Christmas in my heart the whole year round, aware that Marley's Ghost has the right of it, "Mankind is my business. The common welfare [is] my business: charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were, all, my businesses."

God Bless Us, Every One.

I've been busy, what with playing in the handbell choir for the evening services on Christmas Eve, brunch with my son and Ex on Christmas morning, and the rest of the weekend with my fabulous girlfriend..I have much to be thankful for, and joyful about. Oh, and sonnets to write!

Apologies. It looks like I should be crediting David Wald instead, who posted directly below you in the thread where this came up. A six-month-old memory's a terrible thing to use.

"Back then, Caesar Augustus drops it on the mob that they got to pay tax, and fill in the census while they're at it. This was the first time he done that. Some bloke name of Quirinius was governing Syria at the time.

So anyway, every bastard goes off to where he comes from to be taxed. Joseph choofs off to Judea from his home town, Nazareth in Galilee, to get done in the city of David, called Bethlehem, 'cause, see, he was from David's mob. With him goes Mary his regular girlfriend, who was preggers.

While they were down there, blow me down, she goes and pops it out. She has her first, a son, and wraps him up in towels and plonks him in a crib, because the rubbidy was as full as a State school and no bugger would shift.

Meantime, out in the bush nearby, some drovers were out camping, keeping the dingoes off the woollies. Stuff me, an angel comes out of nowhere, and there's a bloody great light all around, and they damn near shat themselves.

But the angel says, S'orright you blokes, don't get off yer bikes. I got good news that'll cheer yers up, and it's for everyone - 'cause in the city of David, you got a Saviour, Christ, the Lord. You'll know him when you find him wrapped in towels, lying in a crib. And all of a sudden with the angel there was big mobs of the army of Heaven, giving big wraps to God, and saying "Up there for God, you beaut, and down here, no strife and fair go for everyone who does the right thing."

When the angels had shot through and gone back to Heaven, the drovers put their heads together, and reckoned, "Hey, a man oughta head off down to Bethlehem and take a shufti at what the Lord let us know." So they put the foot down, and found Mary and Joseph, and the kid lying in the manger."