The cool wisping of flurried wind hit briskly this Tuesday morning. 22 degrees at 6:30 am when I left my home.
That leaves 33 degrees of separation between my present warmth and my preferred state. Kevin Bacon is nowhere to be found.
Christmas songs at the Chinese restaurant at lunch yesterday.
That is 38 days before Christmas. (And Kevin Bacon is not the one celebrated here, not in the most absurd of Nativity scenes.) Thinking about Christmas, knowing the usual cynical response to early holiday music, it occurred to me any reminder of Christmas is good.
The days are warmest at Christmas. Though there was once a million degrees of separation between God and Man, He reduced it to one, with an open hand calling us forward.