Merry Christmas

I blame Craig.

My brother, Craig, who lives in Wyoming, traveled here with his family for Christmas. Two days ago, he asked, "why is it so warm here?"

True, there was no snow, but when the wind blew down out of the canyons after sunset, it was very cold. Icy cold.

"Isn't this a little too cold for an evening outdoor excursion?" we asked.

"Whatever," said Craig. "This is nothing. You realize you're complaining about the cold to the people from Wyoming?"

So we sat through the traffic to walk through the the crowds to see the lights, trying to keep things positive for the sake of our pre-teen, who was more negative than all of the rest of them. Including Craig's three pre-teens all put together.

"It's cold! My toe hurts! Whose stupid idea was this again?"

I didn't take any pictures. But I thought about all the facebook posts I've seen with those lights in them, the hashtag "share goodness", and then wondered about adding our own soundtrack to go with that hashtag....

"Can we leave yet? There are too many people. I'm never doing this again!"

But instead, I didn't take any pictures.

I took pictures earlier.

Kim had the great idea to decorate Ugly Christmas Sweater Sugar Cookies. And we made some winners. 

Tim's sweater.

Kim's sweater.

Mine. That's a reindeer, not a dog.

Kendrick decorating carefully.

The final product.

Only Brent and Grace decided to do their own thing, and somehow Grace's hand got decorated instead of a cookie. Fail, Brent. Fail.

Christmas Eve at my sister Cynthia's house was lovely. Hence I took no pictures.

But the drive home was cold and windy. The wind fought back against the little electric car, and the car barely made it over the foot of the mountain, through the valley, up the last hill to roll into our driveway. Very low battery charge.

Cold, Craig. Cold and windy. 

And then this morning? Christmas morning?

I blame Craig.

I blame the snow on Craig, who wondered why it wasn't cold like Wyoming. Seriously, Craig?

We made the most of it, going sledding at Rock Canyon.

If you die, it is your fault.

Tim.

Jonathan and Tim.

Jonathan.

Boring old scenery.

I don't know what Craig and his family did with the snow. They were 50 miles north, staying with Brent and Grace. We'll call and find out tomorrow. And probably join them again.

Meanwhile, it was a lovely quiet Christmas day with just the three of us.

Tree.

Dinner.

Goodness. Share it, guys.

Since last time

Last time I wrote, I had been here:

Then, over Thanksgiving, we went here:

And then the following week, I was here:

Flying back from that last place, I had a bit of a cough. The next day, my voice was a little scratchy. And then the day after that, chills and aches and fever and I was out. I don't know if it was the same virus that I took with me to Texas -- maybe the work and travel meant I didn't ever get to recover properly. Or maybe it was something entirely new, picked up in one of the different time zones I visited. But whatever it was, it wiped me out for over two weeks. I had to cancel the major trip, the one to South America that I had been planning the longest. And I have only recently been able to stop coughing. Mostly.

Just in time to attend this, yesterday:

Elementary school band. The kids are learning, and getting better. But don't tell anyone -- the performance was about what you would expect of 5th and 6th grade students. Can I say, I am glad that my child did not choose to learn the trumpet? Or any sort of string instrument? Can I say that? Probably not. So I won't.