My Favorite Carol.

(Thanks, Nick!)

Runaway Reindeer.

The folks who put Somerville on the map with their gates project are back with a touching holiday love story.

-via universal.

Oh, wow.

Mozart fans ought to love this birthday cake icing.

(Found a link to the collection here, but I think that it's getting too many hits right now.)

I didn't appreciate being jerked out of sleep by the fluttering heart, the racing thoughts, the cold sweat this morning. Wandered around the house for a bit, took a drink of water, then tried to settle me down to meditate for a bit. The heart kept racing, though, and the thoughts kept flooding through the cracks in my concentration. Finally dropped off at around three ish, only to be woken up again at five and six-thirty.

I've not slept a full night in a couple weeks, but this was the worst. Looks like I'm going to have to switch back to decaf.

Lately, I've taken to calling his Ségolène the French Clinton in response to his Bush-le-neanderthal jabs.

Maybe she's got a bit of Kerry in her, too, what with her treatment of the help and all?

I don't envy the French their election day. The more I read, the more I wonder the candidates are more problems than solutions.

First the Chairman Dances, now El Niño. 'GBH really is on a roll today.

(Boy, I'd give my eye teeth to see this live.)

We were wondering what that cloud of smoke we saw out my boss's window was. Gosh.

These folks have been keeping me in stitches for a while now.

(Check them out. No, really...check...them...out.)

Today made it four paps (not to mention two excisions) in six weeks with another one scheduled for a month from now. Boy oh boy, but everyone wants a piece of me.

Maybe it's because of his fear of committing some sort of microaggression against any of us (and as a shrink, he probably has to live, eat and breathe this stuff) that he doesn't try something new. However, the same daily joke about the office temperature started getting tired after about half a year. I know that Henny Youngman made a career of a one one-liner, but he was an exception and the one-liner wasn't about the weather.

Perhaps one of these as an Unspecified Holiday gift might be a (not too un)welcome refresher.

Hindsight's always 20/20.

Guess I should have listened to my guidance counselor and majored in History. Or IR.

-via Instapundit.

Brightening up my evening commute.

Tired after a long day, I was not looking forward to the trudge home in the cold and dark. Spirits were lifted, however, when I got past the chop shops and into residential parts:









Middle-of-the-road Somerville house decorations.

***



Left over from the morning's snowfall, no doubt.

***



Santa after losing his Mandate from God.



My little contribution to the light-up-the-night cause.

***



Keeping the home fires burning.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, I got a chance to laugh at the antics of my favorite gold-digger, Lorelei Lee; part of the fun, of course, being the fact that she is such a caricature.

Unfortunately, the real-life Loreleis (and there are plenty of them running around), tend to ruin it for the rest of who operate on good faith, so I tend not to be as amused by them. I'm even less amused (though not surprised) by a major women's magazine providing tips at gift-giving time on how to be the best gold-digger possible.

My commute into work takes me through an area filled with chop shops, bottle-redemption centers and other not-so-easily defined industrial activities. It's pretty desolate territory, so I avoid it during the evening walk home. In the mornings, however, I love to lose myself in the details furnished by the construction sites and junkyards.



Cocquelicots. There used to be a fine-woodworking shop at this site, and one of my great pleasures was to walk by on a cold morning and smell the delicious, clean perfume of linseed oil. This business moved out about a year ago and, in its place, more condominiums are sprouting up.



Sem Credito? Sem problema! There are several used car lots in this area, largely catering to the Brazilian and other Latin communities. The cars here aren't spectacular, but I do like the signs in Portuguese and the little plastic banners above, festive and somewhat reminiscent of Tibetan prayer-flags.



The name Acme Anything makes me think of the old Road-Runner and Coyote cartoons.



Nissenbaum's or Nissy's, as they call themselves, is my favorite of the junkyards. If I time my commute just right, I'll get stopped by a huge forklift transporting junked cars from one section of the yard to another. About as endearing as the colorful paintjob and the "Used Auto Parts" in several languages, is the music from the oldies station that they blast over loudspeakers for the whole street.

On one of his walks around the Grand Canal this weekend, The Frenchman's eyes were drawn towards a pretty girl in a party dress that was period-perfect 1803.

The girl noted his admiration and, I'm sure, was pleased, as it's always nice to get confirmation when you are feeling beautiful.

I don't often feel this way, but on the occasions I have, it's been while wearing something festive for the Holiday Party season. Such a pity that these affairs have become so much more casual than in the past.

All lit-up like Christmas.



One of the vanguards of this Somerville tradition had their lights up mid-November. Though not nearly as spectacular as others in the neighborhood, this display did have a catalytic effect: by the following weekend, a dozen other places were lit up. Right now, the brightest display is across the street from me: two storeys' worth of colored lights arcing off the roof of this massive two-family into the front garden-space.

Perhaps it's guilt, perhaps it's the need to light up the night during the darkest time of year, but last night, for the first time ever in my current place, I even put up some lights in my front window. Of course, what I have up pales in comparison with my neighbors' efforts. Still, it's something.

We got our first snowfall of the season this morning: wet, heavy stuff that started out as sleet. It was pretty (pictures will appear later), but I was a bit worried about slipping during my commute through the Somerville Alps.