Before I launch on my own list this week, I just wanted to alert my readers that Clare, the original Three Beautiful Things author, now has her own independent domain to rule: http://www.threebeautifulthings.co.uk. I only come up with a list once a week, which gives me plenty of material, but Clare manages to come up with three things every day. I read her site each morning because it reminds me that no matter how crabby I might be there are potentially beautiful things out there that I’m just not seeing.

My own list from the last week:

1. I have always taken sick days for granted, having had relatively good health. And when I had mono shortly after starting at Wesleyan, they didn’t believe in counting sick days, giving me the flexibility to recuperate. I am taking advantage of one of my sick days today to recuperate from whatever bug I picked up from a poor coworker who had no sick days left to take despite her miserable condition this week. I just wish I could share my remaining days with her so she could stay home in bed, too.

2. Rudi emailed me last week to say that our sheep/garlic farmer would be at the market on Sunday with some beautiful yarn. The colors were gorgeous and had been dyed using a new technique for Gretchen. I bought three mini hanks — two raspberry-colored and one in the hues of rust and ripe peach. Gretchen said it was hard to part with this particular yarn — and I understand why. I don’t think these will be knit into gift projects; these are staying with me.

3. Last night I was feeling so poorly that I didn’t notice the packages sitting outside our door and didn’t really care when Rudi came home and brought them in. Inside one was a cd from my monthly music club (always fun), but the second was from my college roomie. She sent me a belated birthday present — a handmade cat card from one craft fair and a gorgeous necklace from another. The necklace is on a peach ribbon and looks like a Christmas bon bon. I can’t wait to wear it!

Yesterday I was under the impression I was allergic to my Christmas tree, but that hypothesis may have to be re-evaluated given that today I am feeling achy and cloudy-headed. I may have to reconsider coming to work tomorrow if I’m feeling this gross still since I have fun things scheduled for Friday and Saturday that I’d prefer not to be sick during. Bed rest can do wonders for cutting a bug off at the knees.

Nine months before the D.C. mayoral election, we have five candidates for the office. Three are current D.C. Council members, one is the former head of a telecom corporation, and one is the son of a deceased DNC chair.

At last night’s forum, apparently the moderator asked them about civil unions. (Due to our special despised status as a protectorate of Congress, legalizing gay marriage is out.) Three candidates — Adrian Fenty, Marie Johns, and Michael Brown — spoke in favor of legalizing them in the District. The other two were not.

The other two — Council Chair Linda Cropp and Council member Vincent Orange — will not be getting my vote.

Thanks for making my job easier for me, candidates. I appreciate it.

Yesterday’s party was a great success even if the tree was still in the hallway and no food was ready when our first guests arrived. We ended up with about a dozen people, which was much more comfortable than last year’s 30! People could converse! People could sit! People could move!

Of course, the only way we finished the cleaning in time was to resort to our tried and true methods of throwing things into bags and boxes and then throwing those into the bedroom. Which of course means that we have to clean again after everyone leaves in order to find our bed.

Today, the weather recognized the signs that the holiday season was really upon us and opened the skies around lunchtime. It’s been snowing off and on since then, and the snow finally seems to be sticking to surfaces. Being from New England, I think it’s perfectly fine for it to snow in December. People from D.C., on the other hand, are horrified by the very idea of snow. They clutch their Siberian-wear to themselves and scurry from one place to another. Or, rather, they try never to leave their buildings at all. They close things because of the threat of snow, let alone once flakes start flying. It’s all very funny to those of us who grew up driving in snow.

Christmas cards are strewn across the living room floor right now as the pasta water boils on the stove. It’s a cozy night in the Burrow, as I listen to holiday tunes in the pink glow of the lights on the tree and around the room.

The holiday season has finally arrived!

I was under the impression that because this year we’d had a head start on cleaning and on shopping for the party that our preparations would not involve getting up early or running around like mad. Somehow that has not proven itself true.

Perhaps I am the sort of person destined to run around like mad before a party. And there is the possibility that even if I were all ready for a party days ahead that I wouldn’t be able to sit still and would manufacture tasks to be done right up until the last minute.

But it’s probably a moot [moo] point to debate, because it will never happen. I will always be working up until the last minute.

And maybe that’s okay.

As the first weekend of December brings cold, wintry weather to D.C. tomorrow, we will be ensconced in the Burrow playing our annual version of Twister — right hand, beer; left foot, hallway; left hand, ornament; right foot, kitchen — as we try to squeeze just one more guest into our annual tree-trimming party.

Which means, of course, that today will be spent running around like crazy with trips out to Virginia for a tree (we found a nice tree farm last year that we really liked) and a few more party supplies and around D.C. to take advantage of the last few days of tax-free clothes shopping (don’t you think Rudi’s grandmother would like a nice warm sweater?). Then tonight will be spent cleaning (haven’t we been cleaning for, like, the last two months?) and doing some overnight prep work (or not, as will probably be the case).

We always have a lot of fun at these parties, even though I no longer have college interns to invite to trim a tree away from home. It’s enjoyable to have our friends come to visit — which makes all the prep work well worth the effort — but it would be so much easier if I were the sort of person who kept a tidy house. As I am not (nor is Rudi), the day before any event like this is always frantic. Rudi likes to believe this is because the Burrow is too small, but I well remember the days back in our spacious flat in Middletown where we had more than enough room and still had to resort to throwing things into rooms and closing the doors.

Regardless, I like to believe that our friends come more to see us than to see an immaculate apartment, so if there are still a few things lying about come tomorrow at 3, I won’t break down into tears. Because I will be surrounded by Rudi, our cats, friends, good food, and a sparkly Christmas tree, all the rest will just be details.