It's 37 degrees out there

and the landscapers are coming today. Timing is not my strength. Actually, I think it's better to do this in the chilly weather than in the heat of summer, when the plants are not dormant and resent being rudely shoved into blistering hot sand.

Last night we had the first fire in several years, and of course Dudley's first fire ever. He viewed it with deep suspicion. His new bed (Santa brought the dogs their beds early, since dogs can't read calendars) was near the fire. Dudley stared at the fire, then picked up the bed and dragged it AWAY from the fireplace. Good thing Grandma was nice to him and didn't get one of those crackling logs... wait until I throw in some of the well-seasoned oak from the Hurricane Jeanne tree party.

Work is eating my brain. I'm knitting Girl's scarf, and we ordered her new winter coat from Victoria's Secret because going shopping on Monday may not be happening, because it's a big tourist week and she will probably be working. This is the cheapest, laziest, most un-Christmasy Christmas ever, and I don't miss the fuss at all. I don't feel Grinch-y, just grateful that I can do as little or as much as I want and nobody is stressed out. Not a bad way to do this holiday thing.