There was the most extraordinary sunrise yesterday, like something out of an idealized Thomas Kincade painting. As I neared work and exited the freeway, the tree line was gone and the sunrise spread across the east. There were rippling clouds covering most of the sky and between these was light like molten fire, an eye-popping orange, with the clouds between grey and purple layers. The rest of the sky was mauve highlighted with orange-red.

I almost pulled off into the movie theatre parking lot to take a picture with my phone, but I would be late if I did and I didn't like the idea of being in a dark parking lot alone. Sure was lovely, though.

Something equally extraordinary happened last night. I was cold. I woke at 2 a.m. curled into a tight ball with my feet like ice. I tried to go back to sleep. Then I took the fan out of the window. Finally I changed into flannel pajamas. Then I had to add fuzzy socks. Had to shut the fan off altogether, which I haven't done in months, even when it was cold. I was still cold, but waited it out and finally fell back to sleep again. Weird.

It was easier to explain after James came back in from walking Willow after we got up: there was frost everywhere.

It was a telework day and I spent it with Christmas music in the background. I have broken out my cassettes. I have some unique albums on cassette, including three British tapes I bought when Oxford Books went out of business, the choir of Trinity Church in Boston singing (including the famous carol written by their pastor, Phillips Brooks, after a trip to the Holy Land: "O Little Town of Bethlehem"), and the Amor Artis group. I got through three purchase requests and many e-mails, and during lunch had the rest of my "Happy Family" from Friday supper (we went to the Oriental Café again; their wonton soup is outstanding) and worked on the Christmas letter to go with our cards.

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 9:24:00 PM

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