It is a gray day today in Wisconsin. It seems to be the perfect setting to stay in eating turkey, sipping hot cranberry tea, and playing some Christmas music. I wonder what the next year will bring, and I am excited and terrified all at once at the possibilities. Short-term, the next few weeks are probably my favorite time of the year. I will bake cathedral windows and cookies. There will be parties to attend, hats and mittens to wear, snow to play in, and a few traditional movies to watch. I will sing "Santa Baby" at the top of my lungs whenever I want and don a ridiculous paper crown at Christmas dinner (as is the British custom). I will eat one (understand me, ONLY one) piece of Christmas pudding, and I will spend at least one evening laying on my bed watching the lights twinkle in my room.
And if anyone by the name of Josh Spicer ever reads this:
For the next three weeks, I hope you blast Tchaichovsky every night without avail!
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