Well, I've completely ignored this for quite long enough. The holidays caught me up with all sorts of general tomfoolery, including a trip to my parents' internet-less log cabin. Yes, it's very quanit and yes, I did have a quaint childhood. The less than pleasant thing about their cabin is the unpaved, giant pothole otherwise referred to as "the driveway." It becomes even less than less than pleasant after major ice storms. Worse of all is finding that one's car is effectively frozen in place at 8 a.m. as one is ready to leave for church in a skirt and heels when it's ten below zero. (I recognize that my preoccupation with the notion that "ladies wear skirts and heels to church" is unhealthy in this sort of weather. I'm working on it.)
The cabin is also very quaint when the power goes out, as it did shortly after getting the car unstuck and going to second service at church. Logs, fortunately, insulate fairly well, but it doesn't hold forever. We built a fire in the fireplace and passed the Scotch when it started to get too nippy. That, and decorated Christmas cookies by candlelight. Quaint and prosaic? Yes. Always attractive? Not exactly. Especially the gingerbread man Randy created with "red mittens." Red icing mittens on gingerbread hands look uncommonly like little gingerbread arms ending in bloody stumps.
And now the festivities are over, the tree will go the recycle center tomorrow, and things go back to normal. Normal is such a dull word...I wonder, which is better: Normal and warm or quaint, prosaic, festive and freezing?