I've been sitting on this post all weekend, mainly because my Christmas Day was rather bipolar. At midnight Christmas morn, I was still standing in the choir loft of my grandmother's church, trying valiantly to keep my eyes open. The service ran way over, so I didn't get to sleep until after 1 am and had to be up to walk dogs at 6. My dad decided to come walking with me, which was pretty awesome. Neither of us slipped and died, which was also awesome (although it was a close thing). Then, breakfast (egg and sausage casserole and delicious scones, the mix of which came from the old mill in my friend J's home town) and presents!
this (with a short break to see Sherlock Holmes, which I loved, of course).
Anyway, because of my dog walking gig, I couldn't accompany my family to the dinner in Richmond, and being alone on Christmas hit me harder than I expected. That's where the bipolar part of the day comes in. Fortunately, friend Adam intercepted my mopey tweets and saved the day. Thanks, friend Adam, for the saving AND the gorgeous photography book.
In closing, here is a short video of the little wind-up whale Santa left in my stocking. I'm calling him Little Jonah Glug Glug. Just because.