Notes for December.

Here are the things I want to do in December so far.

See a billion movies.

Bake and eat cookies.

Make delicious wintry dinners.

Eat pancakes.

Get a Christmas tree.

Read.

Nap.

Look at Christmas lights, the more colors and blow up figures and white-light-reindeer the better.

Go to Louisiana for college daughter's graduation!

Have piles of family fun with the folks around here, and those visiting.

Possibly take on an epic television program like (finally) Breaking Bad.

OR just watch a zillion episodes of Modern Family or so.

I would like to go for a wander downtown or around a neighborhood with my camera.

I would like to walk someplace where there is water.

This little listicle does not really comprise a story, it is desultory and generic. But I tell you, tonight while we were walking with Bruiser, we walked past a house that had a snowman with lights that changed colors, including all pink, and I thought: December, it is on. Bring me your everything: your evergreen, your wreath, your tangled strands with fizzly bulbs, your too much noise and crowds and excess of desire, your quiet and melancholy. Bring the darkest night. Bring your stars and bring the cold. Bring snow. I'm in the mood for a solstice and a nativity, for song and candles: let's sing and light them together.