Pajama girl

I have to change the name of my blog—or at least the subtitle. I had a dream last night that I finally wrote a new post & then I was trying to look at it. In order to do that I was scrolling through other blogs to get to mine & I hit an X instead of an up key & BAM, my whole blog, every post I ever did, was gone. (Josh Brolin's wife's blog was the one right below mine, for anyone who wants to analyze my dream. Grin.) Anyway, in the dream I was very distressed, so I don't think I can really post under "written under duress" any more. Perhaps for the new year I will come up with a new subtitle…

I'm in Nye, Montana, where I grew up. My parents & I have played innumerable games of pitch. (It's such a good 3-person game.) Mom & I played (mostly lost) a bunch of pinochle against Dad & my baby brother Christmas night. Then Dad & I played (mostly lost) a different flavor of pinochle with our good friend Jo & Mom. (I'm really not a bad pinochle player, in case you were noticing the "I" in both of the mostly-lost teams. It was in the cards.)

Christmas eve & day were filled to bursting with friends &/or family & food & (to quote my friend Cathy) "all that sugar cookie, candy cane, smeared with the glitter of the holidays stuff." We know how to have fun up here in the mountains, & I'm pretty sure there's not a more loving family on the planet. My goal was to spend Christmas day in my nightgown & (Vietnamese silk) robe & I far exceeded that. I almost made it 3 full days, but on the 27^th my dad had the wood & coal stove stoked up real good. The silk robe was much too hot! So I slipped a sleeveless dress on over my nightgown. Does that count? A girl has to have goals, after all.

I could go on & on about everything—feeding deer off the back deck, my folks & I meeting my ex-inlaws & my nieces from Australia for lunch, drawing with my sister's "grandchildren" (her ex-boyfriend's daughter's children) on Christmas morning, using expired Sponge Bob Deep Sea Bubble toothpaste (I think I'll throw it away when I leave—it's effectively childproof because you have to squeeze so hard to get it out, but I like it better than the tiny tube of crappy-tasting toothpaste I brought), dial-up e-mail, etcetera—but I won't.

Speaking of dial-up, I am writing this in my word processor & then (I hope) importing it into Blogger. With a picture even, of my shadow & the deer I was feeding. If there's no picture, you'll know dial-up was too wimpy to handle it.

My folks are out at a funeral. I went to one with them yesterday. There's a wedding this afternoon. I decided I could take one of each, but that was my limit. I have a big pan of very favorite beans simmering on the wood & coal stove, made with smoked turkey. Mom & I boiled up the carcass yesterday for stock & I picked the meat off the bones this morning. Should be delish. I hope all of you had fab holidays, too, & that the new year will bring more of the same.

Blog alternative:
110. Spend a day in your pajamas.