For the past four years at this new house, I've hauled out the outdoor Christmas decorations and, as luck will have it, I'm blessed with a mild day like today to put them up. The garland with the white lights. The old fashioned red lights with the big bulbs. The somewhat ratty velvet bows. The red and gree flood lights. Notice a pattern here? Most years I say, "I must change the look outside." Then, I haul out the box and up they go again. And, at the end, I look at my handiwork and I quite like it. I do love the lights of Christmas. Love the sparkle it gives to the house. Looking back, I don't remember a time when I really didn't like Christmas.

We attended a 50th birthday party last evening. It was held in a suburban bungalow. All the guests gathered in an inviting, cosy basement "rec room." Most of the guests seemed stuck in the 60s. All of them over drinking. Talking about old times. Most of them now live within nine kilometres of where they grew up. They live with men and wome who they used to date in high school. They still enjoy the music that played in the background---Led Zepplin, the Rolling Stones, and the Beatles. Such a time warp. I sat on the fringes of it, watching and observing. I just didn't get it.