On the afternoon of the day called Christmas eve ... downtime on the couch watching: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and Mary Poppins. Kev and I are recovering to the point of functionality following a brief but unhappy and ill-timed bout of the stomach flu, the misery also shared by several of our children. Yesterday was a yuck day all around, and included some swearing (both Kevin and I, on entirely separate occasions, used a particular word we'd taken care never to expose the children to before ... which Albus today looked up in the dictionary. Sheesh). Around twilight, I became overcome with self-pity, which sits well on no one, especially on grown adults, I find. Yuck, yuck, yuck. But it all seemed a bit too unfair: to have finished writing the exam, all systems go for delicious holiday cooking and baking and sharing with family ... and then woken at dawn to the sound of ...
Well, perhaps we have this out of our systems. And though my appetite hasn't returned, I nevertheless had the energy, today, to start a double batch of sweet rolls for tomorrow's breakfast.

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