With Harriet driving, we succeed in making it to Jill Wagoner's Christmas fest,
as is so usual, but yet never so, on a beautiful (neverthless ominous, since this is shaking up to be perhaps the driest January-December ever) Saturday, when so much of the country, from
Southeastern Pennsylvania to the
3,000-or-so-foot-level of Southern Sierra, is socked in.
Check out the
blitzing Leveroni to
Arnold (new controversial traffic circle) and
up through the
very congenial get-together --
singers and teachers, most of the food and drink consumable in the present state, trying-but-not-succeeding (of course) in limiting discourse,
and composition re page 11 The Decameron - Fouth Day: II, plus more Opus 12 work, feeling progressively better, but not perfect. As if ever...