Usually the moment December rolls around, Everett drags out the Christmas tree, sets it up and decorates it. He hasn't mentioned it yet this year and I'm not sure I'll remind him. I just do not care. Yet. I like sparkly colours, but might be just as happy with the flashing lights that were hung up around the office windows last year and were never taken down. Just gotta plug them in.

This plant hanger has had a sort of ivy in it until last week, when I ruthlessly chopped it down because it has never, ever been full and healthy. Why, I don't know -- the rest of my house plants do fine, but this one was always gangly and nothing but stems that grew thick and long but the leaves would always dry up or turn red and roll up. I love ivys, but never have had any luck with them; there have been many, but not a one has ever grown thick and luscious for me. This is not the first time I've cut this particular plant right back, but it will be the last. I figure if it comes back this time, moving to the other house and changing its location vis à vis sunlight might make all the difference. If not, it is finally going out the door.

Scott spent yesterday on the couch with strep throat, drinking soups and eating sandwiches overflowing with onions and garlic to the point that the smell of him could knock me backwards from the other side of a room. Today he is not feeling much better but due to the responsibilities of raising cattle (tell me again why anyone in their right mind insists on maintaining such a business?) he has been out all day, getting them ready for market and then driving them to it. I hope this doesn't mean he ends up in worse condition than he already is in, but did not try to block the door when he was making his way toward it. One thing I have learned over the past year of being impatient to move into the house at Golden Grain Farm is that people will do exactly what they want to do and no more, no less. It's beyond my control.