Christmas comes and goes so fast. I've decided I may leave my decorations up for a good long while, though. Why put a time limit on happiness? Our Christmas celebrations were pretty low-key and only slightly death defying. We went home on Christmas eve night to spend time with my sister's family, my parents and grandparents. The weather predictions at the time were calling for up to 1/2 inch of ice overnight and into Christmas morning. We managed to beat the precipitation on the way down, and the following morning it turned out to be only rain. Even still, due to remnants of the recent snowstorm, in order to visit my parents we had to park at the top of the mountain and await a ride down the steep, icy, 0.8 mile long driveway in the tire-chain clad, 4x4 '79 Chevy. We came bearing the results of our first ever attempt at making soft pretzels. I think I may have found my new calling. I'm already itching to make some more.

The drive back home to the Shanty late Christmas afternoon required constant vigilance. Whereas my family had been receiving only rain, within 5 miles of their house we entered a veritable ice storm war zone. Branches were scattered everywhere, and entire trees leaned ominously over the road, often blocking whole lanes. I love ice storms. Ice transforms the landscape into a scene both dangerous and staggeringly beautiful - a whole world dressed in diamonds. Despite the risks, we were blessed with a safe ride home and found our own immediate area to be ice-free.

Lily, Wilson and Foxy all got the same Christmas present this year - a round of deworming treatment! For the dogs this is an easy process, just buy a couple cans of cheap, moist dog food, sprinkle in the powder packets and watch it get wolfed down. On the other hand, the cat medication was apparently engineered by people who have never actually had to worm a cat. The cat dewormer came in the form of small pills, to be a) "administered orally", or b) crushed and mixed with the cat's dinner. I decided to go with option B and mixed the crushed the tablets into a spoonful of the canned dog food. Beef and liver is apparently not to Foxy's liking, however, and he abandoned the dish after only a few picky bites. Determined to make him ingest the worm poison, I tried to liven up the mixture with a little bit of pancake syrup, to no avail. Turns out cats can't even taste sweet things, which is just as well because I don't know that liver and high fructose corn syrup are very complimentary flavors. My next tactic was to simply starve him out, but he had more resolve than I expected. The following morning he STILL refused to touch the stuff, even after I had remoistened the dried up glob with a dash of milk. The $14.00 bottle of worming pills was supposed to have been enough for two, bi-annual wormings, but in the end Joe and I had to wrap him in a towel and resort to option A, stuffing the pills down his throat. Lily appears to have suffered no ill effects from consuming the liver/syrup/milk/poison concoction, and Foxy now owes me $7.00.