When it rains . . .

Oh my, but we are tired of the rain here in the Southeast -- middle Tennessee, in particular, but all around us it's soaking wet.

I don't complain about the rain much, and it seldom affects my mood or sense of well being. But we have had SO MUCH rain that I'm beginning to be weary of it all and it just might start putting me in a bad mood.

But  hope springs eternal, and it appears we are done with the rain and dreariness for a while. We woke yesterday morning and this morning to beautiful sunshine. It's cold, but I can take the cold if it's just not wet for a while.

I wrote those first two paragraphs a few days ago, then got distracted with something. I'm pleased to say the bad mood never came, but it was getting close.

To go with the yucky weather, there is all kinds of sickness around. There is an ongoing debate about whether the cold temperatures make us sick. My parents and their peers all believed it religiously, and that's how I was raised. Going out in "night air," walking around barefoot, going outside in chilly temperatures without proper clothing, going outside with wet hair -- all of these made me a candidate for sickness in my growing-up years.

When I raised my own children and relaxed those rules a bit, every time one of them got sick, 90 percent of the time, my parents and parents-in-law attributed it to their being cold. Passive-aggressive comments and not so passive-aggressive comments were duly noted.

I have to wonder what my folks might have thought a few weeks ago when I was diagnosed with pneumonia. It was Super Bowl Sunday and I had been fighting a cold for about a week. I thought I was feeling better but over the weekend the cough became worse.

I told Wife that Sunday morning, to be on the safe side, I was going to go to a walk-in clinic and get checked out. The doc there listened to me breathe with her stethoscope and said, "I think you have pneumonia."

I requested that she listen again because surely that could not be correct. Another listen and a chest x-ray confirmed her suspicions. Right then and there she made me put on a mask, told me to cancel my Super Bowl watching plans and stay home and rest for at least the next three days. That, along with a breathing treatment and an antibiotic, seemed to do the trick.

Somewhere my parents are shaking their heads, saying they knew I would eventually get sick if I kept going outside without a heavy-enough coat on.

Christmas 2018 "from India"

For our international Christmas Eve celebration last month, we celebrated the food and culture of India. It was another smashing success.

The only ones who wore indigenous dress this year were Daughter and SIL. Wife had something, but ran out of time and never quite got around to putting it on.

The little guys were with us at the start, but went to bed before we sat down to dinner.

The food was great -- chicken tikka masala, lamb kabobs, naan bread and some other dishes, the names of which now escape me. There were a couple of tasty drinks too, including a curry-based Scotch one with sounds dreadful but was very good. 

Wife said this one was the most challenging for her, but as usual, she made it very special and we all had a great time. This was our eleventh year of our international Christmas Eve, which began the year Wife asked how we would feel about having "non-traditional" food at Christmas, and having it on Christmas Eve. We gave our hearty approval, and that year we had Mexican food.

The rest is history and what started as a departure from tradition has resulted in a tradition in itself. Go figure.

For the fourth year in a row, it was Wife, Younger Son and me on Christmas Day. We went to see the movie "Mary Queen of Scots," then were joined late afternoon by Older Son, DIL and GS2. We went to a great little burger and beer spot that was open. On the 26th, we celebrated Christmas and it was nice enough to be outside some.

Here are a couple of pictures of the Christmas Eve table before we all sat down, as well as the food table.

2018 fiction

As I stated when I posted my list of favorite non-fiction books, I read much more non-fiction than fiction in 2018. However, as I look back over the fiction I read, I realize I liked each book -- some better than others, of course, but I liked all of them to some degree. Here are my favorites:

Crazy Rich Asians by Michael Kwan. This is a hilarious story of an Asian American woman who travels to Singapore, the home of her fiancé, where she learns he comes from a wealthy family -- wealthy beyond what she ever imagined. I watched the movie recently and it's also very good, although, as so often is the case, not as good as the book.

To Be Where You Are by Jan Karon. More of Mitford and Father Tim. I've read and loved all of them and this one was no exception. Karon is getting up in years and I'll be sad when she stops writing these.

A Fatal Grace by Louise Penny. This is number 2 in the Inspector Gamache series and I'm looking forward to reading the rest. Wife and I heard this author speak not long ago and she was great.

The Great Alone by Kristen Hannah. The story of two women enduring abuse, and enduring brutal Alaskan winters. I found the story compelling and I also learned a lot about Alaska.

A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. I seem to always end up with one of Hornby's on my list. Four strangers come together in an unlikely way, as they all consider suicide. Somehow Hornby makes it funny, and not in an offensive way, and also makes it poignant. He's edgy, but he's an artful writer, and I'm never disappointed.

The House of Unexpected Sisters by Alexander McCall Smith. This is number 18 (!) in the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series. As a rule, I don't purchase new books. I generally check them out from the library or buy them used at a book sale. This series is an exception. I think I have all of them in hardback and I believe No. 19 has just been released. I'm nuts over these characters and stories and I've enjoyed each book in the series. 

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng. This dark novel tells the story of a mixed-race Chinese-American family dealing with the death of a child. Like Ng's first book, Everything I Never Told You, this is brilliantly written and grabbed me from the beginning.

The Big Rock Candy Mountain by Wallace Stegner. I read Crossing to Safety and Angle of Repose, two others by Stegner that are probably his best known, years back. I don't know why it took me so long to get to this one, but I'm so glad I did. Written in 1943, this is semi-autobiographical for Stegner, tracing the life of a 20th century family over three decades, the head of which continually seeks financial fortune and the next best thing. Like the other two referenced, there are depressing elements, but the writing is masterful -- as one would expect from Stegner.

I've started 2019 in the way of 2018, with two non-fictions under my belt and a couple more in line. I'm sure I'll need to escape into some good fiction soon. Let me know if you have any recommendations for me. Happy reading, everyone!