Life Creepeth On

 

W

ell, I wasted yesterday working on an entry that isn’t quite ready yet (possibly I’ll have it finished in the not-too-distant future) and so I have nothing ready to post this tenth day of Christmas. I gather that the Earth is passing as close to the sun as it ever does in the year as I write this, but it doesn’t feel like it, what with the cold and all. I see that this is the fifty-fifth anniversary of the admission of Alaska to the union in 1959—an event I remember distinctly, as I can recall hearing my mother and little brother singing downstairs “happy birthday, Alaska,” and then finding out about the happy event the next day, but that’s not really much of a reminiscence. Before the end of that year we would be moving out of our rented house in North Portland and heading off for the wilds of Vancouver (Washington), but that, as they say, is another (and not very interesting) story. Ah, well.