This morning, we were playing and singing through my old Norman Rockwell Christmas book, which has my favorite piano-and-voice arrangements of Christmas carols and songs, and I discovered, tucked into the front dustjacket, a set of music manuscript papers on which I had composed a Christmas song when I was in college. How cool is that?
Mr. Honey encouraged me to play through it, and I must say, it was not very good, and the lyrics needed even more help than the composition and chord progressions. But the penmanship was beautiful-- it was in ink, not pencil, so I must have copied it carefully onto these sheets after composing it on some other paper. (There was no date, and I have a very vague recollection of composing it, so I exhort young creative people to please sign and date whatever you make, just in case you happen upon it one morning fifteen to twenty years and three kids later, when your fuzzy brain has locked up memories it deems less essential to current life.)
The yellow rose is from our dentist, who gives us flowers, in addition to stickers, toys and toothbrushes, when we visit. We got four roses on Monday because the four of us ladies went to have our teeth cleaned. The yellow one is Mariel's and it is the most beautiful.
The weather has taken a drastic turn in the last few hours, going from 78 degrees at 3:30 pm to 38 degrees by 9:00. It is thundering and lightening and pouring down rain, and it is supposed to get colder and colder, with no letup in the precipitation, until tomorrow afternoon when we might-- I said might, girls-- get an inch of snow accumulation. The kids are beside themselves with excitement.
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