December 25, 2023
Feast of the Nativity
Gathering in Alpharetta, the growing clan and a few friends. Recipients seemed to like the paintings I brought as gifts. Drove back into the mountains in time for our Christmas Eve service, which ended a little after midnight this morning. The service seemed lovely, but solemn, a very Episcopal celebration. The bishop had fun whirling the thurible about. I was in good enough voice. Moon moving toward full. Vodka when I got home, because I couldn’t sleep. Santa passed me over again. But it’s all right.
Learned I can drive to Atlanta and back on less than a tank of gas. Being one who fills the tank whenever the needle hits 1/4, I’d never put it to the test.
Worked on The Riding Fun House, baked molasses spice cookies, listened to carols on the radio. Listened to our Christmas Eve performance on You Tube. I never know what to think about our sound. It’s probably affected in some way by position or recording apparatus, but to me it’s a little disappointing. The trebles sound aged and wobbly. The uncertain places are not the result of practice or direction, but deficiencies, I think, of individual voices, which in a volunteer organization cannot be helped. Great rain for the Nativity.
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