Thank God THAT'S over

I've endured a handful of crappy months in my life: March 1987, November 1995, February 2002, January 2003 all come to mind. Of course, September 2001 was no picnic, and let us not forget November 2004, not ever.

But November 2007 — ah, what a little overachiever that one turned out to be. I shan't enumerate the details here, but suffice to say no quarter of my life, my household, or my body came through unbludgeoned.

But it's over now, and December arrived in Seattle like a white knight, first with an uncharacteristic layer of early snow — a brief consecration and benediction — immediately followed by an all-too-familiar pummeling of rain and wind, which even now is blasting and washing away the taint of November.

It is just damn miserable out there, and I'm infinitely grateful not to be out in it. From this warm and dry vantage, with all the calendars now flipped mercifully to the last page, I can take in the deluge with both relief and approval. And with Christmas with the Rat Pack playing soothingly in the background, I can set myself to figuring out exactly where, in this house now filled beyond capacity with baby toys, we're going to fit this year's tree.