any landing you can walk away from

I had my last Russian final yesterday, the semester is over; whatever the challenges next semester brings, *this* semester is over. I have confirmed what I have long suspected: the genitive case is something to be wary of.

Hey, if you're like me you grew up listening to Andy Williams' album "Merry Christmas". It doesn't seem like my parents' style, but wasn't it constantly playing at Christmas time! I finally got hold of the CD at Amoeba and the hits keep coming.

Nicole is arriving via the great metal bird tomorrow night. There's pizza in the refrigerator and Luna bars in the cupboard. I have the Netflix lined up, and I went to the barbershop to get all my glorious, wavy hair cut off. My poor, tired, aching head; I need a hug.

I've got about a hundred pages left to go in Jane Eyre. St. John hasn't shown up yet, but he's looming ever nearer. Surely he will be the man who sweeps Jane off of her feet and takes her away from ever lurking on the damp moors, hey?

And hopefully tomorrow morning I'll be able to start writing "Youth Bus" (church youth group, overnight camping trip, inexperienced assistant pastor invites along a severely depressed man, has to put malathion in the man's mohawk to kill the lice).

And many may doubt the continued existence of the Rasputin story, but I will work on that too, tonight or tomorrow morning. Russian is fun but can be tiring, and now it's time for Christmas and less tiring pursuits.