A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

On holy days being merry and happy:

The way in which religious mysteries are mixed with merry-making is very shocking to some people -- especially. . . .to the people who do not believe in the religious mysteries.  Sceptics are so very sensitive on the point of reverence. . . . .I could not but smile at the thought of those who have again been trying to prove to me that religion has no function but to make men sad.  Those who gradually built up the ancient customs of mankind had a better sense of proportion and decoration. They knew, if only by instinct, how things grave and gay can be combined and distributed, and where flippancy is fitting and where solemnity fits in with it; what contrast will best bring out a real severity, and what is the psychological meaning of that profound phrase "comic relief". . . . .

-G.K. Chesterton, June 19, 1926

Christmas here was merry -- the gravy came out splendidly you'll be delighted to know.  Thanksgiving, um, not so much.  The giblets got misplaced.   Don't ask how.  They just did.  But the Christmas gravy was a triumph, if I do say so myself.  (You do remember that I am the gravy-chef?)  Herself does the rest of the dinner so it goes without saying that that went very well indeed.

The new year's celebration could only have been lower-key if we'd slept through it, which we sometimes do.  We actually had two celebratory options - the local RSCDS branch had a hogmanay dance and the parish had a gathering at Father's house - but herself wasn't feeling up to going out in the cold so we didn't go anywhere.  Yes, cold.  I realize 36° fahrenheit is hardly noticeable to Chicagoans, Canadians, New Yorkers and such but here in the not-quite-tropical-but-we-can-see-it-from-here southeastern corner of L.A. county that is eye-crossingly cold. So instead we just enjoyed each other's company.

I was sitting in the kitchen listening to the radio and doing the crossword puzzle when the gentleman down the street with the IQ of eight ounces of yogurt set off his explosive device* to signalize the arrival of the new year.  I then quietly played Auld Lang Syne on the melodeon.   And so to bed.


_____________________________
*The technical definition of the point at which an illegal firework becomes an explosive device I will leave to the courts.  For purposes of The Inn, I have, as you will have noted, made my own decision.



Oh, one more thing:

Faustum et Felicem annum MMDCCLXVIII A.U.C !
annum bis millesimum septingentesimum sexagesimum octavum ab. urbe condita 

-swiped from VoxRomana, in particular her Twitter feed.