Here is my 2014 WordPress year in review:

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 110,000 times in 2014. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 5 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Peace on earth, goodwill to all.

Holiday Greetings . . .

Merry Christmas,
and all good wishes
for a safe, healthy, and happy new year.


This is a repeat, but I love it:

During Christmas in the 1870s, when he wasn’t sending horse-led sleighs piled high with food and toys to his less fortunate neighbours, the inimitable Mark Twain could usually be found at the family home with his wife and young children, often pretending to be Santa Claus. On Christmas morning of 1875, Twain’s 3-year-old daughter, Susie, awoke to find the following charming letter on her bed.

(Source: Posterity: Letters of Great Americans to Their Children.)

Palace of St. Nicholas.
In the Moon.
Christmas Morning.

My dear Susie Clemens:

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me by the hand of your mother and your nurses; I have also read those which you little people have written me with your own hands—for although you did not use any characters that are in grown peoples’ alphabet, you used the characters that all children in all lands on earth and in the twinkling stars use; and as all my subjects in the moon are children and use no character but that, you will easily understand that I can read your and your baby sister’s jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters—I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself—and kissed both of you, too, because you are good children, well trained, nice mannered, and about the most obedient little people I ever saw. But in the letter which you dictated there were some words which I could not make out for certain, and one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock. Our last lot of kitchen furniture for dolls has just gone to a very poor little child in the North Star away up, in the cold country above the Big Dipper. Your mama can show you that star and you will say: “Little Snow Flake,” (for that is the child’s name) “I’m glad you got that furniture, for you need it more than I.” That is, you must write that, with your own hand, and Snow Flake will write you an answer. If you only spoke it she wouldn’t hear you. Make your letter light and thin, for the distance is great and the postage very heavy.

There was a word or two in your mama’s letter which I couldn’t be certain of. I took it to be “trunk full of doll’s clothes.” Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o’clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to open the door. Then he must go back to the dining room or the china closet and take the cook with him. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak—otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse’s bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, “Welcome, Santa Claus!” Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be. Your mama will help you to name a nice color and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say “Good bye and a merry Christmas to my little Susie Clemens,” you must say “Good bye, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much and please tell that little Snow Flake I will look at her star tonight and she must look down here—I will be right in the west bay window; and every fine night I will look at her star and say, ‘I know somebody up there and like her, too.'” Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall—if it is a trunk you want—because I couldn’t get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know.

People may talk if they want, until they hear my footsteps in the hall. Then you tell them to keep quiet a little while till I go back up the chimney. Maybe you will not hear my footsteps at all—so you may go now and then and peep through the dining-room doors, and by and by you will see that thing which you want, right under the piano in the drawing room-for I shall put it there. If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven’t time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag—else he will die someday. You must watch George and not let him run into danger. If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and somebody points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus’s boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Goodbye for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen door-bell.

Your loving

Santa Claus

Whom people sometimes call “The Man in the Moon”

Things you notice when you’re sick . . .

How the Grinch Stole Christmas! - christmas-movies Screencap

  1. Swallowing grapes is not so easy.
  2. Making a cup of tea takes a long time when you throw away the tea bag and keep the foil packet.
  3. Knocking said cup of tea over immediately after sitting it down becomes a job for tomorrow.
  4. The dogs decide they need to go outside one an hour, probably just being good care-givers and making sure you can still move.
  5. You (I) can, but very, very slowly.
  6. Chocolate at 2 in the morning doesn’t taste nearly as good as it usually does.
  7. Mucinex liquid was invented by the same descendants of Marquis de Sade who invented the original Nyquil.
  8. If you are able to swallow it, Mucinex feels warm all the way down your esophagus.
  9. This is reassuring as I was pretty certain I had coughed up my esophagus on Friday night.
  10. Cold and flu medications always stop working in the middle of the night.
  11. Alka-Seltzer cold and flu medication needs to be dissolved in hot water and then chased by bourbon.
  12. Just kidding . . . not really . . .
  13. It would have been honey and bourbon and lemon instead of the medicine, but I only had the bourbon.
  14. I switched from second to first person somewhere along the way.
  15. Whatever.
  16. The Christmas cards I started on so eagerly and full of self-satisfaction over a week ago laid on my dining room table until I unearthed them this afternoon.
  17. I unearthed them this afternoon because I felt better and decided to clean.
  18. I always do this.
  19. It always hurts afterwards.
  20. A lot.
  21. It all began because I smelled something, and I wasn’t really sure if it was (pardon the total truth here) my dog’s bad gas, my feet, or the bedroom in general, having been a sick room for three days.
  22. So I needed to change the sheets.
  23. Which meant that I needed to do laundry.
  24. Which took four trips from the hamper to the garage.
  25. I do not have a large house.
  26. It’s a ranch, and the only stairs are in the garage.
  27. I still almost tripped on the stairs.
  28. I remembered to wash the bath mat that I used to sop up the tea I spilled yesterday.
  29. Or was it the day before?
  30. So I finished the Christmas cards and put them out for the mail only to notice that the UPS guy had delivered the shipment of dog food.
  31. It’s a heavy box, and I had used my daily quota of energy on useless things like cleaning and bathing.
  32. So the dog food is still on the porch getting rained on.
  33. I could so not care about the dog food.
  34. I did use my time in bed wisely: I started watching season one of “Orphan Black” on Amazon Prime (connected to my television, woo hoo) on Saturday.
  35. I think it was Saturday.
  36. I finished Sunday morning, and then I debated about whether or not to purchase season two on Prime.
  37. I debated for two minutes, and then cashed in a few dollar credits for skipping fast shipping on books and started season 2.
  38. I am now humbled to realize that I cannot buy season 3 because it isn’t a thing yet.
  39. I don’t know what to watch next, and it’s hard to read when you’re coughing.
  40. I haven’t sat at this computer in over a week.
  41. I know this because my e-mail notification says something about plus 700 new emails.
  42. Yahoo lies.
  43. There are probably 5 real emails, and the rest are people still trying to get me to order for Christmas.
  44. Probably better that I haven’t been on the computer.
  45. God I need a laptop.
  46. Or even, sigh, a tablet.
  47. Tablets are evil.
  48. I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror in days, she said, apropos of nothing.
  49. It’s amazing how many dishes one person can make in three days.
  50. Maybe the dirty dishes made me start to clean because I had run out of tea mugs.
  51. Not really.
  52. There are at least 20 more in the cabinet, but I don’t like any of those when I’m sick.
  53. Coffee tastes really bad when you’re sick.
  54. Tea tastes better with honey and lemon, but . . . well, see 13.
  55. I realized that I was walking around the house with rubber gloves on after I did the dishes.
  56. So I did the floors.
  57. Kidding.
  58. Not really.
  59. So, yeah. That’s been my life for more days than I care to admit.
  60. Corey gets home on Christmas Eve.
  61. Let’s hope I can summon up some energy to drive to the airport.
  62. I’m not sure what day or date it is.
  63. At least the house will be mostly clean because I have once again retreated to my bed (with the clean sheets) and am now rewatching certain episodes of “Orphan Black.”
  64. I can’t believe I had so many things to say.
  65. Tired now. Bye.