Turkey day leftovers

One of the key benefits of poncey-French-press coffee culture is that you never find yourself trying to operate the twenty-three buttons of your host's Fifth-gen Neutron Micro-ray Javalizer with Addded Settings for Your Convenience (tm) before you've had your morning coffee.

Grind. Wait. Plunge. Pour.

This, I can deal with.

All the guys and my mother are out at a pretty-waterfall place with cameras. They left about seven, and I'm regretting that I stayed. I was afraid my feet would freeze numb and I'd be a drag, and I'm trying to preserve some energy for contra-dancing tonight. Part of that plan was sleeping in, but that was nixed when mom woke me up to give me car keys (not her fault - I was freezing and sleeping lightly). I'm glad she did, because I had her take my camera. All the boys get cameras to play with, she should too.

Now I have at least a good hour before the rest of the household starts to wake up, my second cup of coffee, and a fire in the fireplace that started on the second try with only minimal prayers to Varzi.

Hmmm...I should paint Varzi, but then I'd have to leave the fire. Playing computer games in front of the fire sounds much better than painting in the kitchen.

Oop, Jono's up earlier than expected. Morning, world.