December 11: The barrier was not quite big enough to stop me from slipping through to the trail. We had our first snow, and I needed to see the dusting on the grass, the icing on the limbs, and the reflection on the water. I’ll behave tomorrow. But stealing a bit of delicate beauty seemed a nice way to say farewell to my trail for a little while.
December 12:. I heard the electric guitar as I descended the Metro escalator. I love that guy, and I wasn’t alone. Rounding the corner, I saw a bike leaning against a fence, a wreath of lights for a wheel, blinking in time to the busker’s song.
December 13: Unleashed by the opposing team, a shower of three-pointers feels like Saint Sebastian’s arrows. And yet there’s something so lovely about them: the looping arc, the improbably clean dive through the rim, the whisper of the net, even the ref’s two-armed skyward salute. Beautiful, yes. But — when it’s the other team — I liked the bouncy misses much better.
December 14: “Hey, Mom! You’re putting up the Christmas village this year, right?!” Uhhhh. I looked at my Saturday and saw four hours of lugging, unpacking, building, arranging, testing and fixing. And all our power strips had gone magically missing. (Boys, I’m looking at you.) But — surprise! — when I finally settled by the fireplace to gaze at that quirky display, I realized that I may be the one who loves it best of all.
December 15: I arrived later to yoga than I prefer. My reward: a full studio ornamented by a pageant of mats, in three rows of four. Ten different colors: pink, orange, yellow, teal green, mint green, sky blue, and more. Even the studio’s three purplish gray mats looked stylish among them. Had I been seated ten minutes earlier, eyes closed and mindfully elsewhere, I would have missed it.
December 16: Saturday brought cold gray rain. I dreaded my errands. Eventually, the rain stopped but the gray persisted. I returned to my car from yet another store — and glimpsed a coral colored sunset beyond the low-rise complex. Ooh. I pirouetted to follow the glow and saw a spectacular billowing mass of clouds and color, like tulips tumbling every which way. The building held the display aloft like a prized dessert, which in a sense it was.
December 17: My day began on the Metro eying a chocolate raspberry-topped layer cake in its translucent carrier. My day ended with a Santa leaning against an office wall, ripples of happy laughter, and dozens of people celebrating the season —and each other — in a late after-hours holiday party. I didn’t get a slice of cake, but just maybe I had a Cosmo!
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