What a glum, dreary day.
Do you know when you go to the mountains - real mountains, like the Alps - and you drive way up to a mountain pass, and then you stay overnight in a little hotel that clings to the side of what you, as a flatlander, might just call a vertical cliff? And you wake up in the morning, and not only is there another mountain wall right smack in your face as you look out the window, but the clouds are all around you, as well? Drifting so low that you think you could touch them, weaving through the tops of the trees? That's what it was like today, and we're not in the mountains. Imagine how low the clouds must have hung for that. It was like the sky was falling down in slow-motion.
So we spent the day inside, again. The rain - we call it, raining like yarn, because it's straight down, like, well, yarn. We had a fabulous venison lunch at my Mom's, and tried a new apple cake she made - "Lecker, lecker, Hosenschmecker", is what Leah said. I agree. It was very, very good. We ate the first Christmas cookies. Also yummy-delicious. I finished a hat for Leah. It's the kind of weather where you need more than one hat. We practiced they're/their/there for Alan's English test on Tuesday. I'm getting heartily tired of "Jingle Bells" which Alan is practicing for Christmas Eve. Every. single. day.
I had to throw the mug out. After I scraped off the gunk, it turned out the mug had, indeed, cracked and was leaking. Sigh. It's just stuff. But it was stuff with memories.