At year’s end, an intriguing political irony has emerged. The Democrats won the national and local elections, but liberalism appears to have lost. Let’s start in the other Washington.
I asked a neighbor of mine what he did for Christmas last week. “We went out to eat at a fancy restaurant,” he said. “That Denny’s is a real nice place.”
T’was the day before Christmas
The older I get, the more time I spend remembering Christmas past. According to my two wonderful children, I must be very old because all I remember of Christmas past is what I ate.
Santa. Christmas Trees. Wreaths. Presents. Egg nog. A crackling fireplace.
The older I get, the more time I spend remembering Christmas past. According to my two wonderful children, I must be very old because all I remember of Christmas past is what I ate.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. While that line is from one of my all time favorite Christmas songs, I have to admit that in some ways it’s putting a real damper on my festive holiday mood. I’ve always said it would be swell if snow didn’t stick on the roads.
Santa. Christmas Trees. Wreaths. Presents. Egg nog. A crackling fireplace.
On a very late night recently in downtown Seattle, I saw a scene unfolding that looked like big trouble. Farther down the sidewalk from me, two shadowy figures stood on a street corner, shouting back and forth, nose to nose. As I came closer, the argument grew louder and more heated. I started to consider an alternate route, because while the dispute seemed to be worsening, there was no one else stirring, not even a cop.
The older I get, the more time I spend remembering Christmas past. According to my two wonderful children, I must be very old because all I remember of Christmas past is what I ate.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. While that line is from one of my all time favorite Christmas songs, I have to admit that in some ways it’s putting a real damper on my festive holiday mood. I’ve always said it would be swell if snow didn’t stick on the roads.
Santa. Christmas Trees. Wreaths. Presents. Egg nog. A crackling fireplace.
On a very late night recently in downtown Seattle, I saw a scene unfolding that looked like big trouble. Farther down the sidewalk from me, two shadowy figures stood on a street corner, shouting back and forth, nose to nose. As I came closer, the argument grew louder and more heated. I started to consider an alternate route, because while the dispute seemed to be worsening, there was no one else stirring, not even a cop.
