It was freaky cold last weekend (twenty seven below Sunday night). The heat shut down in the house Friday. But we didn’t know that. I piled on the sweaters, but couldn’t warm up, like when the flu felled me. By the time we figured it out, it was too late to do anything more than hunker down under double wool blankets and down comforter, bundled up in double fleece pj’s and double wool socks. 

Saturday morning, I layered on an ankle length down coat and wool scarf, then called Friend Karl, who helps us with house ailments. His phone was down. But I didn’t know that. 

“There’s no yogurt?” I stick out my lower lip in comical exaggeration of disappointment.

Mark, the farmer-owner of the CSA we belong to, looks me in the eye and says, “D, this is why you are a high maintenance member.”

Me?! High maintenance? He must be joking. I telescope onto his blue eyes, which are locked on mine unwaveringly. No. He’s not joking.           

For maximum joy and cheer, fly between December 24 and January 1. The strip search and pat down by security kicks off the festivities.

Each seat in the plane has been sold to two people. Snickers and knowing looks go round the waiting area with the free ticket offer (good for one year) in exchange for taking a later flight. All the later flights will also be double booked.  Music wafts by…. I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams….

So, the Oracle and family went. I know you’re insanely jealous. Let me tell you, I’m insanely jealous of you. By staying home, you got to watch it on TV,  from beginning to end. Live.

We couldn’t get on the metro for the crush. Couldn’t get a cab, all taken. What could we do? Walked the four-plus miles from our hotel on Connecticut Avenue to the National Mall. Which was great. Good exercise. Gorgeous fall day. Beautiful buildings. Cool neighborhoods.

We chatted with locals along the way who were surprised by the flow of people walking downtown. An hour and a half later,