Okay, for those of you who were watching the news and were sick, just sick with worry that we were spending the holidays trapped in an airport…we weren’t. It was close for a few minutes, but thanks to the valiant efforts of Herb at the Northwest check-in counter we were one of the few families heading toward Seattle who didn’t spend the night in an airport.

We spent the night in Vegas. Because nothing says Christmas like a plaster Sphinx surrounded by tinsel and twinkle lights. Oh, well, the kid needed to see Vegas, and since we don’t drink that particular brand of holiday cheer, so we just chalked it up to the enchanting delights of travel and used my tiny computer thingie to make hotel reservations. Hotel rooms are cheap in Vegas the week before Christmas. Did you know that?

One surreal night at the Luxor without our bags, and we made it to Vancouver in the slim window between snowstorms. It still unnerves me to glance out the airplane window and see a mountain practically close enough to touch. Especially when you realize that this is only the very top, and there’s a whole lot more under the clouds.

We got to take a stunningly lovely ferry ride at sunset to Victoria, which we would have missed if the plans had gone off without a hitch. It was all snow covered evergreens and a great big boat going through very narrow passages. We found our hotel, upgraded to a really nice suite, and headed out to get some dinner. We came across this…possibly the world’s cutest snow covered gingerbread liquor store. We knew we were really going to like this town.

Wednesday and the Guys are off again. This time to revel in the Holiday Wonderland of Victoria. Possibly I will be caroled nearly to death. I shall attempt to post using my fancy-ass tiny computer thingie. In the meantime, our winter mascot, Big Head Ned the Snow Boy* reminds you to have a joyous holiday, whatever holiday that may be, celebrate responsibly, and take lots of photos.

Big Head Ned also would like to remind you that the red thing on his nose is actually a seasonally appropriate Cardinal, not some weird growth that he really should have removed. He has enough trouble just holding up that giant cranium without me taking unflattering photos.

And why have I been up since 1:45? So much going on, chickens.

Lots of holiday preparations, and getting work cleared away so that we can take off for a holiday break. Since we don’t get a real winter here except once every twenty years or so, we’re heading north. Last year while most people went south over spring break, we headed to Chicago for a blizzard. It was a tiny one. Laughable by Chicago standards, I’m sure, but we enjoyed it. For this year’s adventure we are going to Canada, Victoria to be precise.

And then there is basketball. Practice, practice, practice. Games start tomorrow night. Goodbye sweet leisurely weekends…See you in the Spring. Last night the team was given tickets to a college game. While the other boys ran back and forth to the concession stand and sprayed each other with free samples of Tag Body Spray, my child sat transfixed by the game, and analyzed the whole thing for pointers.

I was transfixed by something else on the court. Remember when male cheerleaders used to be hot in that clearly gay and impossibly gorgeous way, or Mitch Gaylord – gymnast biceps of steel way? When did they veer off into Home Depot Plumbing Fixtures Stock Clerk territory? Or Smile and Pretend You Love Star Trek Until the Server is Fixed? Granted it wasn’t an SEC school, and Baptist affiliated, therefore lacking a Drama Department…so maybe this is as good as it gets. I can’t decide where it goes wrong…the Buddy Holly glasses with the Santa hat or the sweater vest-short sleeve T combo.

Pertaining to the last post, the Least Favorite list did not occur all in one visit. That list was sort of a highlight reel from several visits. And I left off several incidents that truly defy belief if you have not met the charmer in question. Which brings me to why I have been up since 1:45.

The husband had a work related function last night which entails chatting with lots of people he’s worked with over the year. Since I was booked with a ball game, he took Houseguest. I don’t know any details yet, but I can only assume there was an open bar. Hubs is a responsible guy who only indulges when he isn’t driving, so apparently HG did the drinking for them both. They got home around 1:00, and the hubs came straight to bed and fell out cold.

House guest rummaged loudly in the kitchen for a while, maybe looking for a snack, maybe capping the night off with one more shot of vodka; I don’t really know. At 1:30, he staggered into the bathroom and began alternately moaning like death and heaving his guts out for an hour. Ever the optimist, after every bout of heaving, he’d flush the toilet and brush his teeth.

At 2:30 needing a change of scenery I suppose, he left the bathroom and went to the kitchen. Probably hungry again. I can now vouch for the fact that a stainless steel sink greatly amplifies the sound of moaning and puking. HG has earned himself a brownie badge in one respect. He has faced my wrath before, so after the puking subsided, I heard the sounds of frantic and furtive cleaning. Around 3:30 he staggered into the guest room and passed out, evidently dreaming that he was being pursued by zombies. Or maybe he was dreaming of me, waking up and finding that my kitchen sink had been desecrated and not properly sanitized. That’s enough to make a grown man whimper in terror.

How to be my favorite houseguest:

1. Arrive at a reasonable hour, or arrange your own transportation from the airport.

2. As you near the house, recognize the wine store from your last visit, remember our fondness for Spanish wines; have the cab wait while you dash in a pick up a selection.

3. Use the spare key to get in, having no problem with the alarm system.

4. Offer to help with dinner, either the cooking or the clean up. I will refuse, but it’s a nice gesture.

5. In the morning, get up when we get up, emerge from the guest room fully clothed, having combed your hair. Utterly charm me by starting a second pot of coffee after you fill your cup.

6. Other than a damp towel, carefully hung on the towel rack, leave no evidence that you were in the bathroom.

When you leave, I will well up and sincerely beg you to hurry and visit us again.

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How to be my least favorite houseguest:

1. After being vague about your travel plans, arrive when no one can pick you up, and call from the airport to tell us you have landed. Be offended at the suggestion that you take a cab.

2. Mention repeatedly for the rest of the visit how expensive the cab fare was.

3. Minutes after arriving, ask if there is any beer, or Jack Daniels. Upon finding that there is none, suggest that you would happily go out and get some, if only you hadn’t spent all your cash on a cab.

4. Actually pack your dirty laundry, planning to do two weeks worth of wash over the course of your visit, because that will save you, like, twelve bucks at the laundromat back home.

5. Stay up after everyone else has gone to bed. While looking for a snack, discover a bottle of 25 year old single malt scotch at the back of the uppermost shelf in the pantry…lying on it’s side…behind a bag of rice and the spare water filters. Assume the whiskey has been misplaced, not deliberately hidden. By all means, help yourself.

6. Get up after the rest of the household has been up for at least three hours. Wander into the kitchen partially clothed with a severe case of bedhead. Look pitiful for several minutes, finally asking if there is anything for breakfast. Suggest we get opaque curtains for the guest room because the sun makes it hard to sleep. Expect to be thanked for finding our “lost” bottle of scotch.

7. Scratch.

8. After a leisurely breakfast, take an equally leisurely shower. Emerge from the bathroom in nothing but a towel, and inform me that the shower doesn’t seem to be draining. Also ask if I can pick up some dandruff shampoo while I’m out.

9. The night before you leave, replace the scotch with a bottle of really cheap tequila.

Outside freezing my arse off last night, and veerrrry early this morning taking pictures of the moon. The owls were calling, and the dogs were looking at me as though I had clearly lost my mind. The big dog came with me, the small dog went back to bed.

Zee moon! She is made of Cheeeeeeze!

When I was a kid, I had a book about a mouse who goes looking for the giant cheese in

the sky, and it looked just like this.

Yesterday I had a full day planned that started with meeting a client across town to drop off some prints. In one of those moments that let you know without a doubt that you are not in charge of the universe, an accident closed the interstate and left me sitting for over an an hour in full view of the exit, and the place we were supposed to meet. If there hadn’t been a fence (and pouring rain) she could have walked over to me and picked up her prints. She went on to her next meeting and we managed to hook up two hours later. The day of errand running I had planned was effectively screwed.

I woke up this morning at my usual hour, dark-thirty, and turned on the radio to hear that there had been a bit of snow in the outlying areas of town, so schools were closed. As I looked outside to see if there was really snow, I saw the most incredible moon hovering over the horizon. I ran and grabbed my tripod, but by the time I had gathered it and the camera and put on a coat, the clouds had moved in. I had to settle for these shots of the sky as the sun rose in the opposite direction. But you better believe I’ll be back out tomorrow morning to catch the moon.

Some of my artsy friends have already gotten a sneak peek at the new project I have been working on. I have a vast collection of antique postcards and photos, and I have finally found a use for them. So if you feel inclined, and love a good old sepia toned castle, then have a look at my new shop Miss T’s World Tour.

This is Dunrobin Castle, north of Inverness. I bought a postcard with a garish seventies era color shot of the castle at an antique stall some time back. Dunrobin didn’t appreciate being captured in brilliant color, and nagged at me until I created this much more suitable representation.

Earlier this week a stray dog turned up in our neighborhood. Since it’s cold, the next door neighbor is letting her sleep in his garage and feeding her. I have been searching the online Lost Dog ads to see if someone is looking for her, but no luck yet. My son is lobbying hard for us to add her to the family. So far i am able to counter with the argument that clearly she belongs to someone, and how sad would he be if one of our dogs got lost, and no one tried to help them get home.

Surely someone is searching for this face. Wouldn’t you? I can’t even begin to speculate on her parentage. She is still pretty young, and already a good sized, exuberant dog. I know this for sure though, if she were to hang around very long, our Grande Stuffed Burrito dog would not remain stuffed. She spent several hours yesterday chasing the visitor up and down the fence. When she finally came in she didn’t even make it all the way onto her bed before she collapsed in complete exhaustion. She was too tired to even curl up.

Keep your fingers crossed that we find an owner soon. We really don’t need to be a three dog family.

This evening my child spent an ungodly amount of time on his homework. This meant I spent an ungodly amount of time at the table next to him, attempting to keep his attention focused on the task at hand. About as easy as keeping a butterfly going in a straight line.

I got bored and started playing with the pens in the box of homework supplies we keep handy. I used to never be found without a sketch pad and pen, but I got out of the habit. I should start doing it more, because it’s really fun. And the distraction keeps me from banging my head on the table while I am waiting for him to finish.