It's Friday already! I was sure I would blog more this week...

It's been so lovely walking to and from work most of this week and that novelty is still taking hold. At the same time my former life in Don Mills seems like such a surreal and distant thing. Memory is such a tricky thing. Yesterday can seem farther away than something that happened years ago. Ten years of steady routine can recede faster than one standout day.

My wreath was made and hung on the door last weekend, the first of the Christmas cards were sent and received, the year fast coming to a close. And I find myself disinterested in the gift guides and the wrap-ups, even the best book lists. I guess it's that time of year when it all seems like too much churn, too much grabbiness. And I sometimes see my own grabbiness in it too and it becomes anathema to me.

I'll be spending Christmas this year in the mountains. These mountain paintings by Conrad Jon Godly really evoke those early memories of living in the mountains. I wonder sometimes if I miss Alberta because I've been missing that feeling of being swept off my feet.

There's something beautiful to me now about opting out of the city for Christmas, of watching snow blow off a peak behind a frozen mountain lake and holding my friend's baby, wee Marcel Bourelle, in my arms. I'm counting the days!

Have a happy weekend!
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