The two potted hibiscus that sat outside on the patio didn't bloom in last summer's heat, but since late September, when we dragged them inside to protect them from the cold, they've provided a bloom like the one in the photo every week. I've held that picture in reserve for over a month now. When I tried to choose a photo for the December index page from last month's scant selection of entries, I could find none that I thought might stand for a month, so I broke the pattern of posting my favorite picture from the previous month on the index page of the next month. That, by the way, was not the high point of my week (nor was that last sentence), but it was in the running. (The actual high point of my week occurred Friday when I realized that all my flu symptoms had vanished.)

This particular photo is a little hot for the month of Christmas. Although its color contrasts nicely with the somber gray skies we've had lately, if a poinsettia or a bough of holly were to show up in the house this month, I'd replace the photo of the hibiscus. Fa la lalala, after all.

So what has happened since I began laying off my sloth on these pages to the flu?

We attended a parent-teacher conference for Owen at the middle school. It wasn't one of his best. He's on schedule for something below the 3.5 that we expect, and that grade is currently inflated by an "A" in homeroom, a grade which indicates only that he's adept at showing up. He has done well on the tests in his other classes, but his homework grades show that he has failed to submit many assignments. So, his time with all electronic devices -- Nintendo consoles, computers, televisions, telephones, CD players, water pics, electric tooth brushes, etc. -- and his time spent running with his buds will be sharply curtailed until he brings his homework up to par.

After the conference he and I headed to McCain Auditorium on the university campus for another performance by the student orchestra. Attending these events yields him extra credit for his grade in band (already an "A+"), but more importantly provides us with a night out with each other and time for some conversation. This performance was less Sousa-fied than the last, and more Holst-ed, Gounod-ed (or is that irregular?) and Barber-ed. From the progam notes I gleaned a new word, "dargason," which I haven't yet identified as a title, a style of unending melody in an English country dance, or a set of dance steps, but somewhere, somehow, I'm going to use it. I don't know why; I just enjoy having names for some things, I suppose.

The she-who of this house, having ramrodded the exterior decorating, has turned her considerable energies once again to the interior of the house, garlanding this, festooning that, and nearly decking me. A singing Santa wreath might seem harmless to some, but I know better. A motion sensor sets it to singing out "Hey!" before it swings into a rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." Last night, as I passed through the dark living room on the way to bed, I set the sensor off and knocked the wreath off the wall and across the room when its outburst startled me. Kitsch kills, but I see her plan, and I'm changing my beneficiary.

Reading: I'm still grazing through Dinesen's short stories, and I've added Peter Robinson's In a Dry Season to the pile, which I'm enjoying a lot. In fact, I'd prefer to be reading it than writing this. I'll postpone the Stegner (which is more demanding) until the holiday.

Awaiting: The bowl selections. KSU lost 24-27 to Oklahoma in the Big 12 Champeenship game, losing a chance once again at a lucrative BCS bowl.