The countdown to Christmas is on. I’ve made four batches of whipped shortbread, and gone to a cookie exchange. I’ve got most of the gifts bought, and Barney has wrapped them all. He has also set up the tree, put on the lights, decorated it, and carefully arranged Christmas finery all over the house. I have attached an extension cord to the ones already outside, so it could reach the lights strung through the trees along the driveway.

Tomorrow evening Sweetiepie and l will attend our first Christmas party of the season. Vincent has invited us to the party at the Lodge where he lives, and I plan to put together a variety of cookies (the reason for the exchange) for him. It turns out that he does not have dietary restrictions, so finally there is some small thing I can do for him. He is thinking of trying to get transferred to a care home in Yorkton, because it would likely have more people our age in it. He gets a little depressed, living in a place where the residents are twice his age and dying all the time.

Gail called. She was Don’s school aide last year. The support workers have been on strike here since the first day of school, and she and Don have been missing each other something terrible. She has come out to see him a couple times, and promised to take him to the elementary school’s Christmas concert Thursday night. Today is his second day home with a cold, but I assume he’ll be ready to go to school tomorrow.

All of us have been invited to a Christmas party on Saturday, by the people whose cat burden we lightened not too long ago. It was a tough adjustment for the mother cat and her kittens, from a heated shop to a barn -- which is warmer than the outdoors, but the adult still wants what she’s used to.

The first thing she did was drop the litter she was carrying, and abandon it. We never found them. Then she took to sneaking into the other farm house as much as she could. We warned them that she would not housetrain, so if they let her in it was at their own risk. She took to sitting up on the tractor motor, which is warm because it gets plugged in overnight. More cats get killed and mutilated this way than by coyotes, and she was no exception. Her left rear leg now sports a huge open wound where she was caught by the van a couple weeks ago. We have left it alone because we don’t know what to do with it. She must be feeling okay, as she’s out and around. Ah, the plight of barn cats. They don’t often get veterinary treatment. More often, the farmers will give them a shot of penicillin if they seem to need a boost. But this cat, we’ve just watched,comforted, and prayed for.

One of the kittens died on the weekend. There were three, and they’d follow anyone around, meowing loudly as if starving, which they definitely are not as there is food laying around all over the barn, ignored, because Barney’s been giving them too much. They must have followed some kids out to the haystacks on the hill, and then been left behind to spend a cold night without food or shelter. We think that is probably what did in the smallest one.

I sat down to write a note just to say that the photo above is a card Beth sent, one that she made. If I recall correctly, she made it with a potato stamp. You remember Beth? She kept this journal full while I was away this summer.

I have noticed that relations between Sweetiepie and I have taken a dramatic turn for the normal and good, and for quite some time now. Why? I couldn’t say. And he would pooh-pooh this idea to the heavens, but there does seem to be some relation between my cleanup of our bedroom and the improved relations. Feng shui.