Raise your hand if you feel like you need to go on a juice fast.
(I'm raising mine.)
Nothing is more boring than moaning about how you've been eating a bunch of junk (well, not junk, but a surfeit of delicious baked goods and assorted holiday foods) and you're fat, right? So I won't, though it's kind of interesting to me to have these meaty pads atop my hipbones. Let's just say that I'm looking forward to the clean slate feeling of January 1, when leaves are turned over and raw vegetables are consumed and gym activities are undertaken with renewed vigor and the Christmas chocolate is out of the house AT LAST.
We got the last of the opera singers (I think, at least those who can legally get married) married off last night, in a very lovely and Christmassy service at which I predictably cried. There is plenty of evidence of the karaoke reception in my photostream. A really gratifying moment was when I was singing "Always" with my friend Andrew and there was a group slow dance out on the dance floor (thank you, my friends). It was also gratifying whenever the Brit danced with me, both jokingly and for serious, because I do love to shake it like a polaroid picture. I shook it so hard that my neck hurts today, in fact.
This has been a leisurely little holiday season, I tell you what. It's going to be shocking to go back to a regular schedule after days of reading entire books and evenings of family fondue night and playing Apples to Apples Junior with Henry, who is sounding out all the words on the cards like a pro. I gave him The Electric Company for Christmas and he is as into it as I'd hoped--I mean it's perfect for him aesthetically and pedagogically. Apparently he asked his dad to give him some skin the other day, so he is learning already.
We saw "No Country for Old Men" today, which was crazy and incredible. Highly recommended.