Walking The Dog

Look at your feet. Fill in the blanks - my feet are ..., they feel ..., they look ... ... knobbly, svelt, plumptious, furry, hairy, bald, smooth, flaking, dry, sweaty, clean, dirty, stinking, warm, like ice-blocks, socked, naked, pink, white, blue, black (see a doctor), numb, tickle-y, pins and needles-y, beautiful, sexy, hobbit-y, cloven ... etc Mine are cold. A day of shopping, providing a taxi service to Littlest, gardening and sitting at my desk has (and probably, predominantly, the latter occupation is to blame) resulted in freezing toes, white skin and a tingle where the bunion is just beginning to say it's chilly down here. It's not helped by the nakedness, due to tardiness in the dressing activity after post-gardening ablutions earlier - um, just pausing to assess that image ... no I'm not shivering in the altogether at my desk - that would be weird in January. Weird any month of the year. No, the tardiness was due to utter disdain for the choice of socks ...

Apart from this ' :-) ' how do you write a grin? Smiles come in all shapes, sizes and motivations. There's the barely there, I mustn't smile, demur, hinted-at smile. The embarrassed I-have-no-idea-why-I'm-smiling-but-I-am-and-I-can't-stop smile. The forced I-should-be-smiling-because-everyone-else-finds-this-funny-even-if-I-don't smile. The I love you smile between adults which is very different from the I-would-starve/cut-off-my-arm/go-without-chocolate-for-the-rest-o-my-life-if-only-I-could-see-your-smile-every-day-and-keep-you-safe-for-ever smile between a mother and her child. Then there's the I'm happy, just simply, overwhelmingly happy smile sometimes accompanied by a humm-ful tune. Proper smiles involve your eyes. Sad, forced and embarrassed smiles do not. So what about grins. Are they perhaps just very big smiles? Is a grin a smile on a grand scale? The Sydney Opera House of smiles. A smile as deep in feeling as the Grand Canyon and as ...

Christmas evening - so often an anticlimax - is a time for games in our house. The sort played on boards with teams and counters and winners. This year it was the turn of Articulate; a great game when lubricated by two glasses of bubbles, a couple (or three) of wine, one of pudding wine and enough food to ensure your tummy remains full at least until snacking-time just before bed. And a game at its best when played with the ages that extend across a family brought together to share Christmas. Everyone has a different approach to the game - from the competitive I'm-almost-nearly-sober-and-if-I-pinch-myself-I'm-definitely-awake-enough-to-win-this, to the pinching-me-with-a-lobster-claw-wouldn't-keep-me-awake; via the slightly bemused befuddled and mildly belligerent no-I-don't-need-any-help-no-no-none-at-all-I-know-doing-what-I-am, to the I've-been-cooking-all-day-and-my-brain-got-steamed-with-the-sprouts-and-I-can-barely-string-two-words-together-so-my-performance-i...