Olduvai George is just wonderful; go see his card.
The tree is up — a new one to us, still not natural in hopes of preventing the family-wide sinusitis the physicians say is caused by living things on the real trees. The wreaths are up outside (a bit late, but still before Christmas). One batch of mulled cider down already; St. Olaf’s and King’s College and Colorado State Choirs on the CD player (Emmy Lou and Louis Armstrong coming up).
Gotta find the Santa hat to put on the bust of Einstein, though.
Christmas cards always vex. It’s difficult to walk the line between the friends who border on fanatic Christian and take offense at humorous cards, the friends who border on radical atheist and take offense at religious themes, the friends whose international concerns virtually dictate cards from international children’s agencies that feed several villages in Africa or Bengla Desh.
A mammoth card walks the line nicely, I think. I’ve urged George to publish them; if you think you might like one, go tell him.
Tip of the old scrub brush to P. Z. Myers and Pharyngula.
Millard Fillmore's Bathtub 