Steady, Cheryl

I need to focus on this:

Softly lit, Christmas-y room.  Bubble lights bubbling.  Fireplace burning.   Christmas albums playing (some of the free LPs from the Library Book Sale).  Feel the Season, Cheryl.  And the Reason for the Season.  **deep breath** 

Merry Christmas.

(Okay, that's better.  Later, I'll whine about the South Park Mall Apple Store.  I want to whine now, but I'm not going to.  Santa's got that pesky list of his, and Gene Autrey says he's a double-checker.  Gene is not exactly Roy Rogers, but in this case I'll cut him some slack and believe him.) 

(You did know I was madly in love with Roy Rogers when I was four, right?)

Announcement

THE computer is down. I'm using the emergency back-up IBM one (read: "Very, very old"). 

More blogging after the iMac is out of the South Park Mall Apple Store intensive care. I hope.

(The Apple guys may wear shirts that declare them to be "geniuses," but I'm not at all sure they understand that a writer and her computer CANNOT be parted.) **sigh**