It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

I squandered another vacation day today in an effort to prepare for what is likely to be, really, a very quiet sort of Christmas. I still don't know if my family is actually getting together for the holiday, and Scott and I have decided that we're not so much exchanging gifts this year. It should be a relaxed little stretch of time but that feels like letting the terrorists win so instead this is what my kitchen table looked like this evening:

Careful examination will reveal that, at long last, I've written (and addressed and stamped, thank you very much) Christmas cards. Well done me, I say. Well done me, indeed. Less obvious, perhaps, is the discovery that this year's calendar will not fit into a standard USPS envelope. It took a while for me to admit that it also would not fit into two USPS envelopes cut open. Back to the drawing board there, but I figure the recipients don't really need those calendars until January 1, right?

Also accomplished today: A trip to veterinary for Gradka. We are telling her to ignore that talk of impending "Senior Citizen Status" and instead glory in her maintenance of "ideal weight." In truth, she seemed indifferent to both and just wanted to be home again.

Always happy to pose, the youthful Gradka beneath the Christmas tree

Scott and I met downtown after work yesterday (and wasn't that cold rain simply lovely for a bike ride? You know, it sort of was) to have Paradigm Shifts at Oliver's, a ride on the carousel, and a visit to the Impressionist exhibit at SAM before the crowds who will likely pack the place in its final weeks. Scott expressed some surprise at the limited size of the exhibit; possibly Paris has spoiled him. It included a Van Gogh I'd never seen before which was sort of nice (in that it reinforced the "My, that man needed to get out of Holland" theory I've had since visiting the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam so many years ago). We both quite liked the paintings by Edouard Vuillard whom I, at least, had never heard of. And we wandered around a few other rooms we usually skip at SAM until we were told they'd be closing shortly so I call it a successful outing.

Say! This isn't a report of the cookie-making frenzy at all. Nor is it likely to become one. No, I'm going to post a photo of this year's wreath, made out of detritus bits of tree and shrub to be found aound our part of West Seattle after the recent wind storms and then see about clearing off that table. Or maybe I'll just have a cup of tea.

Full disclosure: Some not-from-street ornaments added

PS to Hally: The eyes are the secret to telling female and male bushtits apart. The females have the "crazy eye" with the smaller pupil; the males have the adorable solid-black eyes.

Sweet little male on the left; slightly psycho female on the right