Merry Whatever

I kind of don't like Christmas. I like seeing the family that I like. But I could see them in say, May or September, when I don't have to worry about freezing rain, and it's more realistic to punctuate the 5 hours drive with some roadside stretches when it's at least a few degrees above freezing.

But off we go. As I type, my sister is on her way in from Montreal. We'll head out along the 7, the way we always go. My mom is just about to start cooking the mashed potatoes.

I'm pretty much packed. I'm about to head out to check on Paul's plants, I've got a day's worth of food packed up, I've got a pile of stuff to go to the Back House.

Including Freya and all her gear.

Though not this beautiful quilt that Jennifer made for me. I did not for one second suspect that I was getting a JW Quilt, even when I was squeezing its softness through the gift bag. It's got my dad's pyjamas in it. There's a story behind all the other fabric too. I teared up when I spread it across my lap. Freya loves it too.