Windy Twilley

Yarn keeps me from opening fire.


Merry Christmas, Y'all

This is my family: Moo-moo, Tyler-Bear, me, Nena, and Bubba.

I had a lovely Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, Tyler sat with us at the Candlelight Service. And he drew his first recognizeable picture ever. It looked like a brain-eating zombie, but Tyler informed me that it was a dinosaur. Whatever! I was puffed up with pride.

As at my house growing up, we left out Double Stuf Oreos for Santa. My dad swore up and down that they were Santa's favorite.

Christmas morning I almost had to wake him up. Around 8:30 he stumbled into our room, flung himself on the bed, and muttered, "Go away," just like a 13-year-old girl. But before the "s" in "Christmas" passed my lips, he remembered and was ready to roll. We opened presents, just the three of us, one at a time.

Tyler got Hungry Hungry Hippos, which he asked for. Repeatedly. Hourly, even. He declared, "I am the hungriest hippo!" and made us play one round before breakfast.

My family arrived around 11:00, and Round Two of the Gift-off began. Lunch was served around 1:30, and poof! they were gone by 3:30. My grandmother (who is 97) has a hard time traveling, and my mother says that if they stayed in a hotel together, only one of them would emerge alive. Plus, Moo doesn't like to board her dog. So they make day trips.

Actually, I was kind of glad they left when they did, because Tyler and I got to take the Third Annual Christmas Nap. And there was much rejoicing.

Todd's family rolled up to our house around 6:00, commencing Round 3 of the gift-off and Round 2 of the Turkey (or would that be Round 1 of the Leftovers?), simultaneously.

Todd, bless him, got me lots of books. He neglected, however, to give me time to read them. Ah, well. There's always next year.


Handel's Messiah

Last night our church hosted a "Messiah" sing-along with the Tallahassee Music Guild. We had a chamber orchestra and professional soloists, but the audience performed as the choir.

I've been singing since I was little, and I've never experienced anything quite like it. It was like a full dress rehearsal with no pressure. We made music out of love, and joy. We weren't performing for anyone but ourselves. It certainly wasn't the most accurate rendition of Handel ever done, but it was good enough to make me happy. I sang the full "Messiah" once, ten years ago, but managed to remember most of the choruses.

Except the "Amen." Woof.