(no subject)

[which_chick]

I am now officially tired of making sand tarts. Three batches is enough. I think I'm cured for a year, anyway. Moravian spice cookies, too. Done now. Am packaging up the cookies and handing them off to people so that I don't eat them all myself have to look at them anymore. Being handed a dozen cookies isn't much of an imposition, mind. They're very, very delightful cookies. Anyone out there want some? I've got lots.

Also, happy solstice. I'm pretty sure that the whole point of the winter solstice is to say the following important public service announcement: "COME BACK, MR. SUN!! We miss you!"

I *know* the solstice means the long night is over and they'll be getting shorter from here on out, but frankly January isn't much damn fun and February is the cruelest month. (That Eliot fellow was dead wrong.) February is cold and dark and bitter. It's unrelenting in its misery, a problem compounded by the fact that I'm TIRED of winter after January. I never look forward to February. From a non-astronomy-related perspective, things in these parts do not start to improve until March rolls around so all ya'll can solstice all you want, we've still got two solid months of shitty, dark, cold weather to get through.

Comments

[en-ki.livejournal.com]

Less sun bad. More low-angle sun good good good.

[gwangi.livejournal.com]

For as long as I can remember, my mom has been really bitchy for the whole of January and February. The reason? She feels like Christmas should mark the end of winter, and is always upset that spring is still a couple of months away. I tend to agree, but the only solution I can see is to move Christmas to mid-Feb sometime.

Which is why I'm hereby declaring my candidacy for Pope.

[which-chick.livejournal.com]

You want to be Pope? Why would anyone want that? Personally, I'd rather have a job where I was allowed to wank and didn't have to apologise for pedophiles... but that might just be sour grapes because I'm a girl and can't be pope anyway.

[electroweak.livejournal.com]

Declare yourself to be Pope, which pretty much automatically makes you an antipope in the history books. If you do this you'll have to remember not to get too close to Rome, though, or we'll have to visit you with a cloud chamber afterwards.

[gwangi.livejournal.com]

Plus, if the real Pope is basically (http://www.chick.com/tractimages8665/0071/0071_17.gif) Satan, then all of Jack Chick's followers will flock to my antiPopehood and I'll be able to lead an army of zealots. Constantinople will at long last be ours!

[not-your-real.livejournal.com]

Ooh, wish I'd seen this one yesterday.

Obligatory holiday cheer: Here's to the sun God, he is a fun God, Ra, Ra, Ra!

[(Anonymous)]

Since I'm currently deep in snowbird winter-nesting territory, I find myself heavily exposed to the snowbird way of looking at things. These folks consider the day after Christmas to be the *beginning* of winter. The houses down here are creepily lit - block after block of automatic street-lights and garage-lamps fronting for empty, dark buildings. The snowbird sticks around for the family holidays, tolerating whatever bad weather might come, and then bolts south to her Florida home as soon as is socially acceptable, often as soon as the last Christmas bell is rung, while the echos are still lingering.

Mitch H.