This morning I heard a bird sing. The song was lovely. I don’t know which kind of bird it was who serenaded me, but I am thankful for the song. Goldfinches are at the feeders now. An unfamiliar bird was there yesterday; it looked like a wren.

A red spawn and a gray spawn of Satan had a bit of tiff this morning on the deck. The gray spawn, far bigger than the red one, ended up losing and fell down to the ground. I swear I saw the red spawn raise its arms in triumph.

The day is cloudy and windy, the same as the last few days, but I don’t have to go out so I’m happy. I have the last of the presents to wrap, and I have the fixings to begin baking my cookies so I’ll be busy. I figure I’ll put on some schmaltzy Hallmark Christmas movie to watch as I wrap. Last night I watched A Christmas Carol with George C. Scott. I am a sucker for Christmas shows and movies, even the most sugary. I still miss Andy Williams singing Christmas songs with his brothers and the Osmonds.

When I was little, my mother used to read Twas the Night Before Christmas to us. I loved it and even as a four-year old had it pretty much memorized. One part, though, always seemed a bit strange to me. It was when the poor guy had to throw up the sash. I always wondered why he ate it and what in the heck a sash was anyway. I never asked. I just went with the story. One year the poem showed up on TV as a cartoon, and when the guy threw up the sash, I finally understood.