Jan. 2, Ninth Day of Christmas. Feast of St. Basil the Great, patron of hospital administrators, reformers, and Russia.
photo of the Squirt and his little friend sledding taken by my girlfriend Shanais
I don't know what's more ridiculous: the fact that it was stiflingly humid and warm the Sunday before Christmas, that the local church has to ship in fake snow for the kiddies to find out what sledding is (and, by default, the amazing hot chocolate bare they had set up but how it was so hard to enjoy thanks to the aforementioned heat! (and my climbing fever)), or the fact that the Squirt, after three slides down the hill, went back up and tried to go down again. On his bottom. On the grass.
No, son. It only works on snow.
It's also ridiculous that I've been sick pretty much since the 17th of December.
But you know what's not ridiculous?
A year full of friendships, old and new, the first clumsy but fruitful steps toward liturgical living, and a new year ahead.
See Cari for more ridiculousness. :p