So I've slapped up the new masthead.
Although, I must admit, shamefully, the Christmas tree is STILL standing on our sun porch. Dry as a popcorn fart. But while it's standing there MOCKING ME with all its dry, pine scent, it is no longer adorned with ornaments -- thanks to an unusual burst of energy last weekend. I have hope that by the end of this coming weekend it will be dragged to the edge of the road by my husband.
I'd do it myself but I don't think it'd be wise with Annabel leading the way (down our steep stairs) and Silas tucked into his sack (trying to get fist fulls of needles into his mouth) with his octopus arms reaching out.
So ... let the screamfest begin!