OK. I gave up trying to conquer the cedar tree. It's lying in the driveway until I can roll it down the hill to let whomever roosts in it who wants to. Two dear friends came to see me this weekend and saved my soft-handed bacon (in a manner of speaking) by buying me a white pine tree. We even got some of the lights and ornaments up, ate some chocolate and watched Harry Potter by the twinkling lights. These are real friends.
Actually, all my friends are real friends. I don't have many, but I have managed to cut down on acquaintances over the years. And I don't hang around people I would just drink around anymore. Inane chatter over screwdrivers has gotten to be less attractive as I age, like wanting to know who is dating who. If it's not me or one of the cats...I don't care.
I have eaten so much fudge in the past week, I may pick up a terminal disease from it. Another dear friend helped me make fudge in her kitchen with her experience peeping over my shoulder and her extensive collection of kitchenware at my fingertips. I have given fudge away to most of the known universe, and it still is stacked against the walls and counters in my kitchen. And there are still a few batches of shortbread cookies to redo.
But I have hope ('tis the season) that I can dispose of all sugar products by Christmas Day. Anyway, that's my goal.
Because of the weather, I kept the cats in for five days. I will just torture them outright next time and call Animal Control on myself. They acted like they were changing staterooms on the Titanic and looking for the lifeboats at the same time.
But this morning, I let them out into the Arctic winter. And they came right back in. They just like the blowhole for warm air that's created when the cat door is open all the time. And they want to be able to invite all their friends in when I am asleep. Like the rabid skunks roaming at will in Botetourt County right now.
After all, look at all the fudge SomeOne has to eat...