Advent 1

Sunday afternoon, Crickets practice playing, callers practice dancing, for a party after Christmas. I'm not very good at either, but they let me.

Yes, the cold moon is here. I saw it sitting on Mountain View Road just as the 5pm sit started. After, I went out and looked where she had been and there was just a little, barely glowing silvery thing. What happened? Oh, up to the north, there she is. What's that, then? The back of the stop sign on the corner.

Which is in the same vein as last night's adventure, for which Heat Pump Jim Howard has forgiven me. It's about the mini-split. Yesterday afternoon I noticed that it was blowing out cold air. Drat. Again. Thought it was really fixed this time. I texted Jim; he'd find time tomorrow (this) afternoon to come look at it.

Extra blanket. Dog and cat. Pretty cold at 2am. I should just turn it off. But wait, I'll turn the temperature up a couple degrees. Warm air, warm warm air pours down. It's not broken, I'm just an idiot. Can it get worse? Oh, yes. I text Jim "False alarm. I turned it up. It's fine." at two fifteen in the morning. At 8:30 I texted apology. He replies, "No worries. I tend to get up at 3am."

On the other hand, I have been excused from appearing for jury duty at 8:30 tomorrow morning so that I can keep a long awaited appointment with the ophthalmologist at 8:45.

David Hermanson. Abby Hamilton. Stepped into the next life this week. Abby and I both from St Mark's, Mendham, both ordained priests 49 years ago next month. I'll stop now. Crochet another hat. Sit silent with the moon.