Things lately

have been so full, so rich. I feel like a broken record sometimes, constantly espousing how wonderful life is, but it remains true.

 It feels nothing like Christmas, although I heard the sound of carolers last night, the strains of Silent Night carried in through the open window with the summer breeze.

 This Christmas Peter and I will be making our way up the Australian East Coast, camping in the Great Blue Mountains and scuba diving in fish caves. So much for cookies and eggnog. We will make every effort, however, to incorporate some family holiday traditions of mimosas and lox bagels on Christmas morning. Backpacking with champagne will be a first for me. 

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