A misty Christmas morning on the marsh. I have had very little spare time in the past four days or so. When I have caught a few moments to relax with a book, I've been too exhausted to concentrate. That was my situation last evening. When we returned from the Christmas Eve candlelight service, I walked the dog in a heavy-limbed daze, then flopped on the couch with American Woman in my lap. I read two pages and when they made no sense to me at all, I turned my attention to what Ken was watching, the movie everyone has seen dozens of times, "It's a Wonderful Life." And, once again, Mr. Potter ruins the world. So, to all the Mr. Potters out there on this Christmas Day 2003, to the Walmart executives whose evil deeds outnumber them (they've been the objects of my disgust for the past couple of months), and to all the other big business free-loaders, I hope you choke on your figgy pudding and need a Heimlich maneuver that proves unsuccessful.

This rant is uncharacteristic of me, and is counter to the tone I'm aiming for in this blog, so forgive this yuletide lapse in judgment, but don't forget to boycott Walmart.