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Christmas Eve morning, sunshine, bare ground, temperature about 40F. Okay. Whatever happened to the Platonic Ideal of New England, extreme Yankee-land, Maine as Ultima Thule? That temperature is about 60 degrees higher than we have seen on the same date...

Well, as Wife is wont to say, a degree-day saved is a degree-day earned. Take _that_, OPEC. Up yours.

Being the violent revolutionaries that we are, iconoclasts to the last, we will be having our solstice dinner today. That's because the roast chicken is actually a way-station to CHICKEN BLINTZES, one of the finest ways of devouring leftover chicken ever invented by the human race. And Sister departs on Tuesday morning, so if they want blintzes, let them begin here.

Speaking of way-stations, heard from Younger Son via email yesterday. He teeters on the brink of a five-day "Specialty Exam II" for experimental psych/visual perception. I remain shaky on the details, but think that puts him about 2/3 through his PhD, should he survive. Sounds rather too much like my architectural registration exam. Yecch.
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