The odd thing about funerals is that sometimes it’s the only place you get to see all of your family together. It happened that way Saturday as we marked the passing of my brother-in-law.

It’s a moist morning. Fog. Low hanging clouds. We get a west wind later today. And our fire danger goes up. I was hoping for a wetter winter. But hope when it pertains to the weather is just that.

A weird thing happened on the way to spring. I took down the Christmas decorations. Packed them all away. The cleaning lady came. Presto. My house went from Christmas bright to being a clean, well lit place…

Yesterday was a good day. All the Christmas decorations are down. Most of them are stored in the attic. I worked until I lost the light. And you lose the light early these days.

Christmas is officially over. January 6, the holiday’s 12th day is past. I have turned off the outside lights, and I’m starting, today, to dismantle the tree and take down decorations.

We near the end of the ninth year for these little essays. It is a record setting year, and it’s not quite done.

The Christmas cards are arriving in a fairly steady stream. I left space for them on the pie safe with the angels. We used to have fancy hangers to display the cards, but they’re long gone. I know not where or why.

Grocery shopping would be okay except for all the people. My heart sinks when the parking lot is full. And it was full yesterday. I knew my trip to pick up a few things would be the victim of the holiday shoppers picking up lots of things.

Still wet. Still cold. Going to get colder still. The forecast low Thursday is 14. I’d say that will be a hard freeze. A squeeze the life out of everything freeze.

Sorry if I seem obsessed with present wrapping, but it seems a critical component of a merry Christmas. And I mean, merry, in that I’m happy getting stuff done.

There’s a nice chill in the air and Christmas still seems a long way off, at least to me. It’s a nice sign that time has slowed a bit. Or at least my experience of it. There’s no rush to do anything.

I grow tired sometimes writing about grief. Partly, I suspect because I think, who wants to hear it all the time. But when you’re writing every day about what you see and what you feel, it’s hard to avoid.

December 7, 1941. Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. The country went to war and set off a chain of events that reached all the way down to touch a young woman in Ohio and a young man in Texas.

Ordinarily, a gray, rainy day might feel cold and somber. But today’s gray, rainy day feels anything but.

Here we are one day before Thanksgiving and my home is nearly completely decorated for Christmas. I’m going to bring down the tree today. I was going to wait, but decided, what the heck. In for a penny, in for a pound.

When things are going well, things are going well. Finished putting up the outside lights yesterday. Strung them on the gate with zip ties, ran them up the drive on little stakes, twelve inches from the edging, 24 inches apart. Well, that was the plan.

Started stringing Christmas lights yesterday. I put up the hard ones. The icicle lights that hang from the gutters. They require a ladder. Boo.

Handed out candy to kids last night. It was fun. Had to drive to a friends house to do it. But it was worth the trip. Got a good meal. A nice drink. And plenty of camaraderie.

Both my teams won yesterday. Collegiate. Professional. I feel good. And I am still at a loss to explain how I missed the Astros in the World Series last year.

Relatively easy drive into Houston. Hard loss to watch with the Astros. Of course, they’ve never won a game one of the World Series, so hope is not lost.