Fell asleep with “Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me” streaming on a random public radio station and woke up to that station’s morning bluegrass show playing Christmas songs. This may be the only way I’ll tolerate holiday music this year.

Leftover snapshot from the week: Sawa’s Old Warsaw, Broadview, Illinois.

Reading: 15 Things You Need to Know If Your Child Is an Introvert (Psychology Today)

(Testing the upgraded Micro.blog iOS app.)

Dodgers trade Matt Kemp, Yasiel Puig, Alex Wood to Reds for Homer Bailey (ESPN)

The Dodgers traded those guys for somebody who sounds like a character from “It’s a Wonderful Life”?

Dear iPhone autocorrect,

The pickled Italian pepper relish I put on sandwiches is spelled “giardiniera,” not “goat diners.”

Thank you,

Joyce

Pro tip: The best time to remember that cabbage makes you gassy is before you decide on the Polish smorgasbord for dinner.

Reading: The Fresno Bee and the war on local news (GQ).

The Bee was my first full-time newspaper gig out of college, so this is an especially brutal read for me. I don’t think I could handle how horrible it is now for journalists these days.

The maple fudge was a success, albeit more grainy than I would like. (It’s supposed to be creamy; with as much butter and cream as I put in it, it should be.) I’ll be giving this recipe another go.

Considering an option that could make it more interesting: bacon.

Vacation done. The anxiety dreams over the weekend reminded me. Back to the grind this morning.

Christmas at the Marytown dining hall. (A leftover snapshot during last week’s retreat.)

Making maple fudge should not leave me exhausted and needing to lie down.

NOMO app comparison: Contax T3 simulator versus Lomo simulator. (The Lomo version has the faux date in the corner.)

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Came home from my retreat this afternoon and found this in the mail.

One can hope: “What Happens When Facebook Goes the Way of MySpace?” (New York Times)

Finally done with work. Time to leave it behind for a week off, split between a visit from family and a brief retreat. Trying not to think about how fast it’ll go.

But I prefer my milk gluten-free. 😕

Pete Shelley of the Buzzcocks is dead of a heart attack; he was 63.

Damn, I feel old.

Futile repair attempts for my old iPhone 6S sucked up half my workday; two-factor authentication makes it impossible to work from home without a smartphone, unfortunately.

Square-inch pieces of juice box packaging + cheap glitter pens from Target + a bold black Pilot G2 = a nice way to while away time during a conference call.

Me: “Looks like Air Force One is gonna carry Bush’s casket to Washington.”

Husband: “Does that mean they’re leaving Trump in Argentina? I’d be okay with that.”

School canceled tomorrow. That “Yay” I heard in the next room was not unexpected.

Aaaand we’ve now a blizzard warning in DuPage County. Whee.

Coming up at the top of the hour on the Weather Channel: “Dead of Winter: The Donner Party.” Interesting approach to counter programming as a blizzard approaches.

Blizzard warning! It’s a thing just west of here. (We just have a “winter storm warning.” Also exciting.) Barring a tree landing on our house or something, I’m incredibly excited about hunkering down for this.

Experienced my first service—a funeral, sadly—in an African-American Baptist church. Blown away by the spirited worship and (yes, even at a funeral) joy. My sedate Catholic Anglican parish is going to feel a lot weirder tomorrow.