I'm being a bit lazy this Sunday. Put it down to the large blizzard cum sub-zero temperatures we are having here. Not that that weather is actually demanding any serious action on my part, beyond sliding my car gracefully into something on the road the other day and bending my left front wheel, that is. (It'll be going into the shop tomorrow, if the mechanic isn't snowed in at his home.) Or some extra snow brushing for the purposes of store runs. Or carrying all the groceries into the house from the snowy driveway. Exhausting stuff like that. Esteemed Husband is the one doing the snow-blower and shovel shtick.
My children and I start home schooling again tomorrow after our two-week Christmas break. I'm pretty well prepared. I have just ordered live paramecia and amoebas from this science supply company, with a special live stain which is supposed to make them easier to see and slowing drops which are supposed to keep the paramecia from running away. Or something like that.
Meanwhile, I offer you a link to a Christmas story that made me cry. Mind you (backhanded compliment alert), I'm not entirely sure why it made me cry. It is a John C. Wright fantasia. Digression: John C. Wright either never sleeps or types faster than any man on the planet. I don't know how he writes things that long. End digression. Imagine a Roman Catholic mash-up of A Christmas Carol, a sci-fi short story, complete with changing the past (if I'm understanding the ending correctly), visions of the end of the world, complete with a monster that eats continents, the Book of Job, and St. Nicholas doing theodicy and performing miracles. Oh, and did I mention a little girl going to heaven and getting to hold Baby Jesus? I didn't? It's in there, too. But it kept my attention, peering short-sightedly at the screen (I hate reading fiction on the computer), and it made me cry. So if you think you will enjoy such a story, give it a whirl.