The hustle, the bustle. I can accurately claim neither, having just emerged from a fireside nap on the hard floor. This year in our home, we started a tradition of letting ourselves celebrate on the day where it feels like Christmas, be it November, December or beyond. This year, the day fell upon an otherwise Sunday when Martin asked if I’d made any plans for the day.
None! I smile.
Fire? he asks.
All else is all else: cold ice rinks, sweet feet, belly-sliding for the save in front of the net. This afternoon, Markus is decorating his point’s roster for a Christmas caroling tour throughout the Nashville music city neighborhood.
