Season’s End

If you’re looking for a good, inexpensive chardonay, don’t get the Chateau St. Jean, for what it’s worth.  I drink seldom, and I try to make it worth my while when I do have a drink.  Chateau St. Jean has a hint of soap suds in the bouquet, and a lingering after-taste of nail polish remover.  Granted, I didn’t pay much for this bottle, and bought it on a whim, so I get what I deserve  here.  Still, with half-a-jigger of lemon juice per glass, it’s acceptable.  

I’m celebrating the removal of the last vestiges of Christmas this evening.  Two trees, a wreath (thrown into the fireplace for disposal; a mistake, like the wine, that I shan’t make again), assorted X-massy do-dads, Christmas cards on the mantel, lights from the bannister … all are now relegated back to their basement dungeon, sentenced to another year in boxes stored in unvisited corners.  The Professor took the lights off the main tree, and disassembled it for me, which is a big help.  I like lights on a tree, and lots of them.  The seven foot tree in the den has a thousand lights on it each year, all intertwined and jiggered up just-so.  If you can follow the string of lights from one light to the next when it’s on the tree, then I consider my job ill-done.  A perfectly executed tree has lights so randomly distributed that you don’t know how the strings are placed from just looking at the tree.  It makes for a bitch of a tree to take down once the festivities are over.

This year the cats broke nothing.  I found a couple of the smallest glass balls on the floor in the living room behind assorted pieces of furniture, but  they were all intact.  Since they were all cheap balls, I’m not surprised that they endured a month of cat-and-mousing.   It’s the expensive ones that fail the hale-and-hardy test that cats put them through.  This year though, the only fatality among the good, hand-blown imported balls was my own fault.  I dropped the ball on the carpet while decorating the tree, and it slowly rolled about six feet across the carpet to gently bounce against the metal stand for the Italian glass table I spent too much on.  I chased it the entire way, only inches behind it.  The damned thing hit the stand of the table so gently that it made a barely audible "tink", then shattered into a dozen pieces.  Another one down, twenty-two to go.  At this rate they should last another two hundred and twenty years.

Now I’m sitting in the living room, fire blazing in the fireplace, listening to Gene Shay’s folk music show on WXPN (, drinking my celebratory end-of season wine and waiting for Battlestar Galactica and snow.  One I expect in half-an-hour, the other I rather hope doesn’t make an appearance.  The cats are arranged like casualties of the day about the den, in various positions of repose.  It’s a good evening.

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  1. I’ve got an hour and a half until BSG, so we’re watching some of the episodes from my first season Alias DVD’s until then. Should be good tonight, and I’m really mad they didn’t give any hints as to who any of the other 5 cylons were. I’m convinced one of them is Bill Adama

  2. It sounds like a lovely evening. I love looking about the common area and seeing all the pets snoozing in their variety of poses, each one more contorted than the next.

    I feel the same way about Christmas tree lights. I love Christmas lights, in general, but when I can follow the strings around and around the tree, it’s not nearly as beautiful or special as a truly well lit tree.

    As for the wine. I heartily recommend Jordan for cabernets, Alexander Valley Vinyards for chardonay and J wines (Jordan’s daughter) for sparkling. I used to work for these people and drank their wines all the time, as well as cooked with them.



  3. My Adama theory is based on the possibility of Lee and his brother either having been adopted, or if Bill is their step-father. I would think if they had intended the character of Lee to be Bill’s natural son, they would have found an actor who more resembled EJO, or used his son Bodie Olmos who is on the show anyway.

    I’m not so sure about Roslin, mainly because of the cancer she had which was cured by the cylon/human stem cells. It would seem that were she cylon, she would not have contracted cancer, plus due to the cancer the doctors would have enough medical knowledge of her body to identify whether she was a cylon or not.

    We’ve seen that cylons can bear children, and I gathered that the only reason Sharon’s daughter Hera was sick was because the cylon medical knowledge did not encompass human childhood ailments. She was perfectly healthy until the cylons got their hands on her.

    The doctor on the other hand… definite cylon possibility.

    Another thought I had, based on the comments of D’Anna when she was in the temple, apologizing, i wonder if the 5 are children? Or if the 5 were human, not cylon, who had willingly collaborated with the machines to create the human appearing cylons.

    OK, enough thoughts about BSG, back to my various LOST theories…


  4. I actually put my decorations up the first week of December this year, that is the earliest I have done so. For some reason the day after Christmas I take them all down. I wish I could wait until after New Years, but I have never been able to. This year we did Christmas on the 23 due to various work schedules and it was all I could do to leave them up Christmas. I was done. The cats, for the most part, left everything alone too.

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