Of Holidays And Days

Friday we found the LED icicle lights. Saturday found Chuck up on the ladder stringing them along the porch. Today he tackled the edge of the barn. Now there are icy blue-white lights glowing and bobbing in the sleet-snow mix. We are safe and warm inside a house that smells of potatoes and olive oil transformed into latkes. Our stomachs are full of crispy outside, creamy inside potato pancakes and sour cream and apple sauce. Seven candles have burned and sputtered to tiny wax puddles in the chanukiah, on this, the sixth night. The Christmas cards are designed and ready to print. But that can wait until tomorrow.

I believe my Thanksgiving hangover is beginning to yield.