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I'm Dreaming of a White RussianDecember 24, 2005 Midway through the Fall of Working Excessively, I promised myself a bottle of Kahlúa and a bottle of vodka when it was all over -- or rather when the money started to roll in. Check from Big Job #1 rolled in on Wednesday; Friday I rolled down to Our Market and laid in a bottle of Kahlúa and a bottle of vodka along with the usual resupply of beer. Friday night, aka last night, I mixed and shook myself a White Russian and found it good. Very good. Much too good. This is why I haven't had a White Russian since last winter: hard liquor is way too expensive and I like it way too much. Earlier this evening, having stopped in at the Lobdells' to exchange gifts, I discovered a variation: Black Russian with a generous splash of eggnog. It was way, way too good. Only my ridiculously puny income stands between me and a life of total degeneracy. For this I am grateful. It's been a good day. After tending to Sullivan, Sterling, and Contessa, the Malamutt-chasing mini, I worked a couple hours on the (bizarre) proofread I'm doing. Around noon I gave Rhodry his lunch and, since it was close to 50 degrees out, gave Uhura Mazda the bath she has sorely needed for months. Then, at the wheel of a Pretty Clean Truck, I set out to play Santa Claus. Rhodry rode shotgun; the gifts were stuffed in a canvas bag. First stop was the Brown-Irwins'. T.A. and Ana were heading out in one direction, Patrick and Tom in another, but as long as Uhura and I were blocking the driveway no one was going anywhere. We yakked, Tom politely concealed his impatience, Rhodry and Sam poked around in the woods. Next stop was the Shabazians'. Elaine and I yakked, Rhodry prowled around the house, Tillo was inadvertently shut outside, and Michael hung out in his office (smart move when the girls are talking horse). Finally wound up at the barn, quite a few gifts lighter and feeling that the real spirit of Christmas is traipsing around schmoozing with friends and exchanging gifts with them. It's probably the closest we've got to wassailing. Most of us would be much happier people if we could work less and visit more. Wæs hæil!
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