I've been making fires, lighting candles, and reading. I read Terry Kay's To Dance with the White Dog, Rick Bass's The Hermit's Story: Stories, and James Agee, A Death in the Family, all excellent and suitable for rain.
Now, I'm looking for a change. I have a wicker chest filled with notes from workshops of the past. I have decided to pull it out in the middle of the room, and go through what's there. I have power and food, and I know from the weather the roads are probably blocked, so it is a good day to peruse the past. I pulled out one Christmas mug but am not yet in the mood to decorate, though I see many of you have.
If you are considering immortality, think of the wonderful jellyfish: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/02/maga
It is a Sunday to savor and enjoy. Well, of course, every Sunday is that, but this one feels extra special. Perhaps it is a quality, a character, of age. The moments get more and more precious, each one an ornament, a world, an earth, to turn, embrace, ingest.