I had to do it. I had no choice. I bought some new deep-soft slippers because my feet hurt so much all the time and I have unforgiving hardwood floors. So: Merry Christmas to me. Uggs. Size 13.
I baked two sets of letters to spell “Merry Christmas:” One with sugar cookie dough and the other with gingerbread dough. I decided to glue one to a ribbon to hang as my token acknowledgement of the season for when friends come for dinner next Tuesday. The first one broke in a zillion places; the second one worked (with minor repairs to two letters).
I watched my first episode of Julian Fellowes’ series, Great Houses (PBS). It is fantastic; he is fantastic. This first episode was about Burghley House, built by William Cecil. Mr. Fellowes revels in the stories the house reveals. One concerns Lord Cecil’s decision to have Mary Queen of Scots executed out of loyalty to his boss, Queen Elizabeth I to whom he was devoted.
Another concerns descendent who quits the home because of his wife’s philandering to take up the life of a commoner in a nearby village where he (bigamously) marries and impregnates a Cottage Countess. When his mother and wife die, he reclaims the home after re-marrying his wife only to lose her shortly thereafter.
By far the best story, however, involves a servant girl who is impregnated by the master of the house but whom is framed to protect him. She, in quick order, loses her job, her son (who dies shortly after being born) and her home because of the illegitimacy of her child. It is a horrifying story, but Fellowes tempers it by finding the poor woman’s great granddaughter.
I can hardly wait for the second and last show.