The rain is gone for now, but the grey sky threatens more. It will be warm again today, but tonight the temperature will plunge as low as 30˚, not fit weather for man nor beast, or rather Henry and me, woman and dog.

I haven’t yet begun baking. I can’t even find my cookie sheets. Some of my lesser used pans are in a container outside as I had run out of cabinet space. That’s where I thought the cookie sheets were. I was wrong. Luckily, though, I did buy two new cookie sheets. They were in the outside bin.

Today I am watching syfy. I’m taking a break from Hallmark, Lifetime, Ion and Up where every story has a happy ending. Right now I’m watching Snowmageddon. It’s Christmas time in Alaska. A snow globe has a miniature of the town inside. When something happens, like an earthquake which splits the ground, it happens in the snow globe first. The dog barks. He knows.

We have family traditions, some newer than others. Piñatas are now into the second generation. My niece, the aunt, and my nephew, the uncle, fill the piñatas for each other’s kids because I, the aunt, started it all. They also get new pajamas just as my sister’s kids did from me every Christmas Eve. My sisters make peanut butter balls just as my mother had. One of the great surprises was when, some time long after Christmas, my mother would pull peanut butter balls from the freezer. We all remember. My orange cookies were my mother’s favorite. My friend loves them too so I make them every year. My sisters and I all have live trees. Nothing beats a pine tree at Christmas. I remember walking down the stairs Christmas morning and smelling the tree before I saw it. I have some of her decorations. My mother loved Christmas. We all do because of her. We are carriers of the Christmas bug.