Back and back - December 30th, 2008

Alright. Time to buck up or bow out, and with this mountain of soulful spring cleaning I've got no time for reflection. Regardless, the past few months have withered (or weathered) away, and the icy breath of our London wind seems to have woken me from a graying slumber. So sorry for the time away, more I bid sorry to self, and hope that as our clock chimes two thousand and nine it is the lure of the future that pulls with greater force than the weight of these days.

For Christmas we've been house sitting for some of Jess's family, in what can best be described as your proto-typical English house: about eight feet wide and five stories tall. Fireplaces light each and every room, but seem never to hold the draft at bay. So apologies to any who called to wish me a Merry Christmas, the loss of a chance to hear your voices is grim, and I'm sorry.

But, with the introduction to my life of luxuries like towels, dishes, and walls, we we're able to christen the season with Bartholomew, the Christmas shrub:
And at a whopping, coffee-table-threatening height of three feet, he makes for a grand total of ten dollars per foot. I guess there is a tree-crunch this year.

As for the day of yule itself, I managed to scrap together and construe this little beast for Jess:
Her name is Sunny Muffins, and she's been adorned with some stallions and ponies to really get the point across. Although I will say this little bit of future advice to the curious: Don't ever, ever, EVER, get the idea to paint a bicycle. I have it on pretty good information that Marlon Brando had just finished spraying a three-speed before the final quotes in Apocalypse Now.











As for my own little slice of the Christmas Cake, Jess managed to win handedly this year, giving me a trip to Morocco.

We leave on the second, and it's been this incredible gift that's perhaps managed to wake me from my miasmic drudgery of late. I'm doing my best to memorize Arabic phrases, such as "Your camel makes delicious milk", "My, what a fine desert you have", and "Gee, now that I think about it, Allah sure is nifty". Although I'm sure no amount of studying can ever overcome my inherent tourist stupidity.

Okay, that wraps up the days around Christmas, but I haven't even touched on what's going on here in London. I mean, what people are really talking about, the reason the capital is super blurry, why you can't even let your sailors out at night...



Oh shit, there goes the liver, 'cause here comes the Sarah.

More news on organ failure to follow.

Good to be back,

Nick