It's the most wondeful time of the year.

We are now at Lisa's parent's abode. We arrived this afternoon after a frantic packing and organizing session, which included herding the poor cat into his kennel for the trip. He had to visit the vet a couple of days ago for his annual check-up and vaccinations (yes, I'm actually cat-blogging - if you're already bored skip this part), and he took a couple of days to recover from the injections. He basically slept and refused food, which worried us at first, but now that he's in a new environment the fire has promptly returned to his eyes.

The weather is chilly in the valley, and there are a few patches of snow scattered around. I think that really makes the holiday.

So, a quiet Christmas for me this year. Unfortunately, we can only have a few days off before we return to Vancouver and pack up our house. I wish I could celebrate longer, but them's the breaks.

Also, this was my dad's favourite holiday. He grew up in a Catholic family in Quebec, and Christmas was a huge celebration for that side of the family. My dad would always talk about réveillon, when families, after Mass, would be up all night on Christmas Eve to eat and drink. I'm going to miss his homemade presents and the huge, steaming pot of grog we would make on Christmas Day. I am happy and grateful, yes, but I also feel a little hollow inside, too. This year I'm just going to enjoy a restful pleasant holiday and do some writing and reading. Oh, and my homework.

I think this year I will try to replicate my dad's grog recipe, although he used another type of fruit juice rather than lime (or lemon). That's more of a punch than true grog. I suppose he just liked the word "grog."

Say it now with me: grog. Good job.

I haven't had a cigarette in awhile. Yay me. Of course, now I have this overwhelming urge to consume an entire cheesecake and a bottle of whiskey, but hey - at least I'm not smoking. I'll just gain two hundred pounds while trying to curb my cravings.

Merry Christmas!