I didn't manage to get any more recorded last night. I had intended to, but I've been tired these last few post-COVID days. It's possible that I'm not entirely recovered. I tried to do my full run the last two nights, and only managed half the first time, and a third last night. It didn't help that it was in the twenties outside, though.
We went to the mall yesterday, and it was the busiest I've seen it this whole year. Of course, it's a Saturday before Christmas, so people will be out, but it's still strange to see, so many folks in masks practically pressed up against one another. They had a Santa Claus in the usual place (I vaguely remember seeing Santa there myself forty years ago), but he was in a sort of glass enclosure, like an aquarium, and people could pose for pictures standing in front of him . . . like this were a zoo.
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| "Please do not feed the St. Nicholas" |
There was a sign (I should've taken a picture of it, it was so gross and brazen) that said, "Happy COVID Christmas! Get a picture by Santa to remember this unique and once-in-a-lifetime holiday season!"
That's hard for me to get my head around, but hey, I'm not the smart guy in the room right now. Even though I'm alone.
My nephew (13) has been charged with reading and answering questions about "A Christmas Carol" for his English class. I picked up a big hardback copy of the book for him at the library (he wouldn't read the PDF of it I sent to his phone) and his parents have been reading it to the kids at night. Now, neither of them are professional audiobook narrators (not like Renee Chambliss, I mean), and it vexed me to hear them stumble over the text, so when my sister asked if I would read them a chapter, I jumped on it.
It was my favorite chapter too, the second stave with the Ghost of Christmas Past. I did the voices and went as fast as was humanly possible, but the boys were bored out of their minds, and jumped around and teased each other throughout, to the point where I punched the oldest in the face and made him read all the Ghost's lines in a faux-English accent. After that, he paid better attention, but I was surprised by how ponderous the text was. I guess I'm used to movie versions or Patrick Stewart's recitation (which was a holiday tradition for me in the Nineties), but not only was it way wordier and harder to comprehend than I had remembered, but my favorite part--the bit with Scrooge's fiancé (who we call Belle for some reason)--meant absolutely nothing to the boys, despite me crying in anticipation of those most dire words in literature: "May you be happy in the life you've chosen."
But ah well. It means something to me.
Sit-ups Today: 150
Sit-ups In December: 1294
I'm editing the last chapter of "My Friend of Misery" now. I've be-otched a little bit about how long it is and that it's not very good (at least I have now), but it would be nice if it were well-received, and people clamored for a follow-up, because it really could continue from there (it was originally a Part One where Brielle was fifteen/sixteen, a Part Two that takes her to her first year of college, and then it ends, but there could easily be a Part Three that takes her through school and marriage and motherhood, I dunno).
It is pleasing to me that I have so many projects lined up to release and revise and record. If idle hands are the devil's workshop, then it's good to constantly have more to work on, more to focus on, more to aim for, more dreams to dream.
Words Today: 348
Words In December: 10,923
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