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It's cold now, and dark until 9:30ish, then pitch black at 4:00PM. It's a strange life here. Sometimes it's hard to remember not having to pull on the snowboots and warm up my car every morning, and the mountainous snowdrifts, sure to be enormous by spring. (Or "breakup," as they say here in Alaska. It's an icky time, where everything melts and the world is a sodden, muddy mess.) It's funny to think that spring will come back, and all of a sudden the sun will be in your eyes all the time.

Thanksgiving was nice, and none of the horror stories about R's nieces and nephews came to pass. We went shopping at 5:00AM on Friday– on purpose. We planned out exactly what were going to buy, and were out of the store and on to the next in about 45 minutes. I actually am pretty much done with my Christmas shopping now, thanks to Friday and amazon.com. I'm finished making R's present, too. It turned out really nice, if I do say so myself.

Must go, a class of 5th graders and then an evening at the fabric store (blegh) awaits. Such is the exciting life I lead.

Yesterday I drove on dark, scary icy roads and up a steep and winding hill to the back of beyond. I'd taken the shortcut, but I think next time I'll take the west-then north-then east route. At least there are streetlights and regular plow service there.

The drive was worth it, though, because it was the nicest and most fun sub job I've had yet. The kids were darling, the activities were fun, and I hope they call me back again. After school the kids struggled back into their coats and snowpants and boots, and I ran outside in a t-shirt to start my car. The trees were sparkling white and covered with frost, and the sunset was lighting their tops in pale pink. The winding road looked out on the entire white, icy valley and it was so beautiful.

I remembered driving out to camp that first summer and seeing the depth of the birch and the black spruce, the road cutting a clean slice through the hills. I remembered the meandering Tanana and how foreign everything seemed, after the land of blinding sunshine and open space. I didn't know then that I would be driving that same road on a winter afternoon, feeling at home in the ice and snow and darkness.

This year is fast encroaching on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and it's snuck up on me again. I'm wishing for more time to complete all of the projects I've signed myself up for, but I'm happy to watch the days shorten and the trees grow heavy with snow. I'm happy about having a Christmas tree and a wreath on the door, about having my own Christmas in my own home. It will be cold and dark and undoubtedly poor, but it will be ours.

Oh! Make time for the Leonid meteor shower (best tomorrow night and best in Asia), because it's that season again. I haven't had the chance to see past the clouds yet, but I'm looking forward to it. Can you imagine falling stars and the aurora overhead, all at once? The thought makes me swoon.

The house is showing today, so I'm trying to make sure it doesn't look like complete caca. I jest– our house is pretty clean except for the darn kitten toys all over the floor. All of the windows were frozen shut this morning, and I had to melt them with a hair dryer. Alas, silly Alaskan escapades (ice capades, too), and it's not even that cold out yet. (Though it was 23 below this weekend. I guess we're on the downslope to December 21 now.)

I've been sewing like a mad fool this morning, since I decided to take on a bunch of Christmas projects and now have to follow through. I'm making tiny stockings out of felt for the kids at the Montessori school (only like 30 of them, but that's still a lot), and silly hats for everyone else. I can't seem to make hats with normal person proportions– they all come out too narrow and too tall. I need a better pattern, maybe. Or some nice John Kerry look-alikes with cold heads.

I'm beginning to accept the idea of four more years of Dubya. It helps that nobody in my daily life is especially happy with the outcome of this election. I may not have a country that's being run the way I'd like it to be, but it turns out that misery does love company. And well-written editorials. Speaking of which, it also helps that the pro-Bush letters to the editor are almost unfailingly free of logic and fraught with grammar errors. Which explains a lot.

Forgive me for writing about politics, because it's tedious and overstated and I'm not very good at it. But today I'm feeling pretty personally affected and a little attacked. Then I'll go back to writing about the cat.

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