Tugged Between Lethargy and Life

We'll see if it all gets done.  We have things to do today -- a Christmas letter to write and reproduce and preparations for the neighborhood party that will pass through our house, just to name two -- but the day is hardly inviting.  The brown leaves remaining on the tree outside are blowing horizontal with a cold wind that makes the 30-degree temperature feel like 15.  The inches of snow from earlier in the week have already adopted that "winter tired" look from the sand and melting and refreezing cycle.  And I have been sick most of the week -- the cold outside having turned into a cold inside my head and throat and chest.  

We have been looking forward to the day.  We enjoy the annual pilgrimage to the tea shop downtown, journal and pen in hand, to sit by the window and reflect on the year -- what we've experienced; what we have felt; what we have learned.  We love thinking about those distant family and friends to whom those letters are eventually addressed, anticipating their reconnections in return.  And we have looked forward to spending the afternoon in the kitchen together, trying out a few of our Italian recipes to share with our neighbors who will spend their 40 minutes here tomorrow before being whistled to the next stop down the way.  

But the morning, thus far, is forbidding -- the frigid wind, if anything, blowing stronger -- and the warm glow of the fireplace and the soft twinkle of the Christmas tree are inviting.  Wouldn't this be a nice day to stay in -- maybe finish a book that has dragged on too long, or just curl back under the sheets and down comforter?  

We'll see if it all gets done -- which end of the tug-of-war rope wins out.  Did I mention that it's supposed to be 8-degrees tonight?