So I could wiss you Merry Cwissmass...

Mary plucked cherries while Joseph stood around

I would love to go back to this tree today and get some photos of the berries in our current snowstorm but, you know, I'm battening down the hatches.

Most. Mature. Photographer. Ever.

This is a select excerpt from the "CLASSROOM BUILDING" sign on my campus. I was waiting to meet a student who never showed so I was feeling a bit snarky.

It also reminds me of a friend from college, whom I was constantly (and correctly) accusing of being "sassy." Then when a store called "Four Seasons" in my third-rate hometown mall went out of business and left its sign behind, I stole the letters S-A-S-S and gave them to my friend, who hung them on her dorm room wall with some degree of pride.

If anyone wants a wall-sized enlargement of this photo I will totally do that for you at cost.

Never leave the Lord unattended

I was at a Catholic wedding with my Jewish aunt, who nudged me to take a picture of this sign. Neither of us had much idea what it meant, but we both liked the language of it, outside of a religious context. There are few committed adorers of any kind in this world, I think. Anytime — AM, PM — we could use some.

On the road again

I took this this weekend while driving, in inclement weather. Because I'm smart like that. But I'm completely enamored with highway shots, and I like how the colors and the purposely slowed shutter speed took form.

Well, THAT was embarrassing

I took Chuckie to the vet yesterday because his belly had become increasingly distended over the past several months. That and (I apologize in advance) he's had loose stools. I was convinced he was afflicted with some sort of serious intestinal ailment. I was concerned for his well-being.

It was a bad sign when I arrived and all the veterinary assistants were like, "My, he's gotten BIG," and "Ooh, Chuckie, you're a BIG boy aren't you?" and "Wow, he's really GROWN since the last time we saw him."

Not, "Chuckie doesn't look well."

Just, "Your cat has a fat, fat ass."

They weighed him and he's now 14.8 lbs, meaning he's gained more than three pounds in less than three months.

The vet, a laid-back middle-aged biker with salt-and-pepper hair and a slight Southern accent, came in and started prodding Chuckie's enormous belly. Chuckie just lay there on the examination table, accepting it as some sort of odd pat.

"Huh," the vet said. "No sensitivity or soreness. I don't feel any unusual masses. It's not particularly firm..."

I could see where this was going.

"Chuckie here needs to lose weight."

I tried explaining to him that though Chuckie does eat constantly, we have to leave the food out because our other cat is tiny and getting smaller. Most of the time Chuckie is monopolizing the food bowl, I said, but on the off chance that Bitty comes down for a bite, shouldn't there be food out for her? Shouldn't there?

He shook his head. Separate, measured feedings from now on.

I sighed.

"You know," I said, "We got him from the shelter. I think there was a time in his life when he didn't have enough food, and now that it's always available he's overcompensating."

The vet shook his head again.

"You know, sometimes people try to tell me that," he said. "But cats just don't have that level of... cognition. It's not like they wake up in the morning and think, 'I better stock up on food now - I might be out on the street tonight.'"

He paused, and prodded Chuckie's belly a bit more, for good measure.

"He just likes to eat."

So now Chuckie gets just 3/4 cup food per day, split into two feedings. He is going to drive me bananas, I just know it. I asked the vet if it's okay to feed him early in the morning and then not again till evening.

"Or does he need a mid-day feeding?" I asked.

"No, he most certainly does not," he said.

Last night I didn't feed him because he already had been eating all day. He was underfoot the entire evening, looking up at me expectantly, like, "Oh, pardon me, you probably didn't notice, but the food bowl is actually empty."

Or perhaps I'm attributing him with too much cognition again.

Then he ate a piece of penne pasta one of the boys dropped at dinner.

All golden

Because our nutcracker collection was on its way out of control following an after-Christmas clearance last year, I'm now limiting it to one new cracker per boy, per Christmas. This was Jackie's choice for 2008.

It's fair to say he's one of the ones that falls under the "creepy" category.

For one thing, we got him at the thrift store. I love shopping there, but the premise of the store is that it's filled with items that other people rejected. It's times like these when it's easy to tell why.

He's also the only nutcracker without a wooden face -- instead he has this molded old man doll's face and it's actually a part of his sternum that unhinges to do the cracking.

Finally, his outfit is completely covered in gold sequins, hat and everything. Oh, and he's missing his feet. But other than that, a perfectly fine specimen.

Here's how Jackie described his newest acquisition:

"He's my nutcracker and I call him old man but he's a king, and he has a mustache, and he can stomp his teeth and he's all golden. And he doesn't have any feet."

They will crack your nuts

Here's a special treat for my loyal readers: This month I will be featuring a series of photos of my son Eli's nutcracker collection. He has amassed a number of the earnest, wooden figurines in the last couple of years. He can't really explain what he likes about them; he just likes them. I do too, the more I'm around them, though some are a little creepy. Not you, fellow. Some of the other guys.