Fewer posts the last two months merely reinforce that Life Happens even when genealogy is more or less all-consuming. Mayan misinterpretations aside, this is likely to be the last post of year while I resign myself to
Well, I could break into a carol from time to time. There’s gratitude for yesteryears at boarding school whereby a thousand morning assemblies automatically committed to memory every hymn in the Anglican Book of Praise including Christmas carols (alto and descant harmony encouraged). Not a terribly common feat, to be sure ... [note for the obituary, to be sure]. Thus the unpredictable and overpowering urge to belt out “Jerusalem” at odd times.
Or I could consider jazzing up The Annual Letter for the benighted who don’t read my blogs. Or I could just do the Camelogue® as I keep threatening. Then again, why am I not doing more to decry the endless urban perversion of glass towers, petty politics, general corruption, global warming, and those winter hats that resemble a stoned baby
What I am also not doing is listing cool things I did/said/wrote/accomplished in the past twelve months. Nor am I so foolish as to publicly assert some resolutions for the coming year (some people think it will arrive)—the Fraser ancestors would be haunting my nightmares. The illusion of exercising control over one’s life should be maintained at all costs. For whatever time we have left. ;-)
In my current lax state of post-travel euphoria, the most attractive notion involves a hogshead of President’s Choice caramel salé ice cream and hibernating till spring or Timewave Zero, whichever comes first.
However. Nonetheless, on the other hand, and notwithstanding, for the time being may I wish you interesting but harmonious family times in whatever manner you celebrate. Time to stock up the fridge. And perhaps re-visit the best ever folk carols from the Kingston Trio.
© 2012 Brenda Dougall Merriman