We have made it through the other side of the first blizzard in this house with no injuries or disasters. Saturday morning we went outside to help our neighbor and his wife dig their car out of the snow (he’s the one who had a pacemeker put in three weeks ago.) They took off to run errands and came back to give us some heavenly coffee cake from Sugarbaker’s down the street. The rest of the day was spent in pursuit of leisure. At 8, Redux came on Bravo and we wound up sitting through that whole thing until midnight—it was interesting to see the new footage, but I can’t say it added anything to the movie that needed to be there. I highly recommend Hearts Of Darkness, the documentary made with footage shot by Coppola’s wife during the filming, as it contains a ton of fascinating behind the scenes stuff that is alternately heartbreaking and hysterical.

(The Angels Wanna Wear My.) We drove up to the Towson mall this afternoon to get out of the house and do a little shopping. One of the first places we hit was the Apple Store, where I asked about the blue iMac. From what it sounds like, the video board is fried—a $300 repair. Yikes! We then ventured over to the Nordstrom Rack where Jen found a dress and I found a pair of red retro sneakers. I’ve always wanted a pair of cool red shoes, and I’ve got them now for the low price of $27.

Grandma’s Hands. Two things reminded me of my late grandparents this weekend, and they both brought me a smile. Jen and I busted out our Christmas gear on Saturday and tried to make the place look festive. One of the things I’ve had for years is Rappin’ Santa, a little fabric covered Santa Claus who raps a tune when you clap your hands and dances in time to the beat:

Jingle rap, jingle rap
Jingle all the way

[unintelligble]
In a onehorse open sleigh

Hah!

Huh-hah, Jingle Rap!
Huh-hah, huh!

My Mom’s mom gave it to me before she passed on, and I never get sick of it.

The other thing that brought a smile to my face were the mittens I put on to shovel the walk on Saturday. They are green, a shade that doesn’t go well with anything I own, and made out of heavy synthetic wool. Every Christmas my gramma Dugan would have us all trace our hands on paper so that she could knit us mittens for the next year. The mittens I have were actually made for my Dad about twenty years ago, but they fit my hands perfectly. They’ve been with me for years and seen lesser machine-made mittens die, and I think of her every time I wear them.