On the twelfth day of Christmas real life gave to me

Twelve baubles shining,
Eleventh hour cleaning,
Ten feet of cords,
Nine kind words,
Eight people calling,
Seven hours cooking,
Six hours baking,
Five different playlists,
Four aperós,
Three fir wreaths,
Two paramedics,
And a smile from baby D!

Happy Lovember Solstice 💝

The year is winding down and we are gearing up for Christmas here in the land of elves, gnomes and goblins, forest spirits and fairies. And Santa.

It won't be fancy, it will be cozy. It won't be a silent night, I'm sure it will be an absolute circus, and I am very much looking forward to it; and saying farewell to 2024. So many deaths in the family. And then baby D came along to remind us that life goes on.

I hope your year has included light, dearest denizens. I hope you've been the perfect mix of naughty and nice. And if you are wondering whether you accomplished anything this year, let me leave you with this:

If you've done a kindness, or spoken for the silenced, if you've helped someone, anyone, or worked for the common good, if you've nurtured nature, or been a peacemaker, not only have you had a good year, you have lived a good life.

Happy holidays, sweetie darlings. 💋

There is a light that never goes out

And in Life's noisiest hour,
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.

From The Presence Of Love by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Yes, there will also be singing. / About the dark times.

Without a hint of sarcasm, cynicism, naïveté, or religious undertones, carefree Friday, sweetie darlings. If only for three minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

With all that's going on, come on! Yes, with all that's going on. Precisely because of all that's going on. Day by day we're adapting to the awful, and for the sake of your sanity and ability to function, to some extent you have to adapt or lose your footing, sense of belonging, and purpose. It is genuinely quite stressful and demoralizing, even paralyzing. But let's not normalize the awful or it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

So do look after yourself, your sanity and ability to function, in any and every way that works for you, or you will lose said sanity and ability to function. And you don't want that. You have work to do. So be it art, exercise, comfort food, friends, family, community, whatever puts your mind at ease while nourishing it, go for it. We're not winning battles on an empty stomach, a fried brain, or a famished soul.

The dogs bark but the caravan moves on.

To be continued.

Enjoy your oligarchy!

Dita can't come to the Den right now, she is drinking glögg, eating cookies and watching cheesy Christmas movies for the next four years.

Okay! See you all in November 2028. And to the WASP guys in ties and their tech billionaire buddies: Try not to turn the climate crisis into climate chaos, half the population into second-class citizens, the country into your personal piggy bank, and democracy into a thing of the past.

(Not holding my breath for four years on those, that's for sure.)

[My sons, over the past few days: "They elected a criminal? That's not a serious country, that's a meme factory." "And people wonder why young adults don't want children. Who wants kids in a world that works like this." "Mom, are you crying?" I was. For a second I was. But I'm with Margaret Atwood, despair is not an option. Despair is paralyzing and exactly what those gloating in glee wish the rest of us to feel: defeat, defeated. Well fuck that shit. Not today, mister. Not ever, sister.]