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Back from the dentist.  God I’m glad that’s over with.  Nothing but good stuff to look forward to for the rest of the week.  (The work this dentist did on my tooth though, it’s a work of art.  I didn’t really get a look at it until I got home. Gorgeous.)

I took this picture because I love tiny alleys.  This is so small, maybe it doesn’t even count as an alley.  Maybe it’s just “the space between two buildings.” Except I think a person can fit in there, so I’m pretty sure that means it counts as an alley.

Just a reminder that someone else is always having a worse day.  I saw this sign yesterday on Hudson.  Isn’t that sad?  Very cute little dog.  Losing a pet is the worst.  Loss.  It’s bad.  Not having in the first place is no picnic either, I can tell you.  Ahhh, yeah. Sigh.  Obama is our next president, Obama is our next president.  (I chant this whenever I need to cheer myself up.)

Also, if people would like to do something nice for a nice friend of mine, please go here and vote for The AM Law Daily.

Oh god almighty. I’m just having one of those days, nothing terrible, but one thing after another. I’ll be back later. I’m cleaning up my house now and taking a shower, and I may run downtown for a holiday dinner thing, but I don’t know if I’m going to make it.

I took this shot on my way back from the dentist.  Oh yes, the dentist.  Definitely one of the things that made it one of those days.  It looks like a lion I have hanging on my wall, which I think I inherited from my mother who was into lions.  I always think of the door knocker from A Christmas Carol when I see a lion. S-c-r-o-o-o-o-o-g-e.

I should stay home and watch something holiday-ish.  I think the Rudolph thing is on tonight.  But then again, seeing people is good.

You know, I don’t really have a lot of demands, I don’t have children, but I’m starting to accept that no one is immune, holidays are just plain stressful. Period.  

The Holidays to Us: We’re here, we’re going to make you jumpy and worried and occasionally depressed, get used to it. Oh, and mwah-ha-ha.

I’m home working, and getting things done. I sent a couple of chapters from my book to someone I want to interview, and he liked them! I should be in a great mood.  And I am, but my mood can and does change, like that, with very little prompting.

I meditated, went to the gym, ate healthy food.  Now I’m listening to holiday music, which I love.    Vivaldi’s Gloria is playing right now, before that the Snoopy Christmas song—what better holiday song is there than that?Palestrina is on now!!

So are those struts (is that the right word) the only thing holding that building up?  That can’t be, right? Maybe the bricks are unstable or something.  Where was that? Broadway maybe, downtown definitely.  Pretty building.  I want those floor to ceiling arched windows.

Tuesday night is choir rehearsal, Thursday night is the dress rehearsal, Friday night is a concert and Saturday afternoon is a concert.  Music heaven!  I love the music John Maclay (our director) picks. I mark my favorite parts in all the pieces with asterisks so I know where they are and I can be fully ready to savor them. I’m so glad I thought of joining a choir all those years ago.

I took this picture outside the restaurant Chanterelle, on my way down to the Municipal Archives.  I liked how they hung chandeliers out front, amidst all the construction.

At the Archives, I found the marriage certificate of my great grandparents, Peter Horn and Annie Prince.  They got married in Brooklyn on Christmas Eve in 1893.  Isn’t that sweet?  I also noticed that she lied about her age. She was three years older than her husband, but on the certificate she says they’re the same age.  I find that a lot.

I also found nothing but mystery trying to find out more about my maternal grandfather, Walter Armstrong, who was adopted. He was 15 years old when his adoptive parents were married, so he had to have been at least that old when he was adopted, presuming they didn’t adopt him before they were married.  His brother, also adopted, was 8 when they married.  I know nothing about that brother, even though he was alive until 1993 and living in Queens.  I never met him.  

I found all sorts of other weirdness, but this is probably boring unless it’s your ancestors too. Families are weird.  I’m guessing there was all sorts of cheating going on, maybe a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing with either interracial or interfaith elements.  Who knows?  Unfortunately, that line of my family is one big black hole.