Make That Goose An Albino Turkey

That's right, albino turkeys.  Or maybe they're just white turkeys.  Calling them albino certainly makes it sound more exotic, though.  Either way, our neighbors here at the guest house have a whole flock of them.  Is it a flock of turkeys? Or a gaggle? A host? A murder?  I digress.

For the first time in about 5 weeks, I'm able to spend a few minutes this morning just soaking up sunshine.  Sure, my chair is soggy, my feet are thoroughly dusted in chalk, and J brought me a dead thing on a stick, but the sun is shining.  Somehow that, of all things, makes it feel like Christmas.

We're spending Christmas in the "Tricycle Capital."  I'll do my best to get a picture of the roads before we leave because it's chock full of motorcycles with covered sidecars, AKA tricycles.  I love reading their names as we drive past them.  Usually, the bike has one name and the sidecar will have another name. For example: today one of the bikes was Angie, while her counterpart was Lena.  It makes for an interesting drive across town, to say the least.  This Christmas, I'm thankful that I don't have to drive at all while I'm here.  I don't think my heart could take it. Just being a passenger gives me palpitations.

Last night, we set up our "real" tree, which is actually a fake tree, but it's more real than a paper chain tree. That, paired with the promise of baking some time today, makes a girl really feel like it just might be Christmas in 6 days after all.