Well, it looks like we're still here and the Mayan apocalypse has been a bust. Not that I've been too worried. My understanding from what I've heard from actual scholars on the subject is that the doomsday stuff was based on a wild misinterpretation and possibly some drug-fueled pseudo mysticism. Though some of my friends are claiming that the Doctor saved the planet (again) without any of us noticing it.
I had my first experience of a Brazilian steak house last night -- one of those places where the guys walk around the room with huge chunks of grilled meats on skewers, and they slice bits off onto your plate. I may not eat red meat again for a week, but it was so very good. I had probably far too much filet mignon. And a little of everything else. I was having dinner with a former co-worker who'd moved away and was in town on business. I love having the kind of friend you can go more than a decade without seeing, and then you pick up as though no time has passed.
So, after half a cow and a very long chat last night, I suspect I may not be very productive today. This may be a day to get the house more or less in order so that I don't have chore-type stuff to do over the weekend and on Christmas Eve. There may also be reading because I'm way behind on my reading goal for the year. For some bizarre reason, I decided I had to re-read the Connie Willis time travel books, perhaps mostly because The Doomsday Book takes place at Christmas and there are Christmas scenes in Blackout/All Clear, but also because I hadn't re-read The Doomsday Book recently before the first time I read the WWII books, so I thought I'd read them all at once. I'm almost done with The Doomsday Book. I've realized that I'm picturing Connie's husband as Mr. Dunworthy, but the weird thing is that my mental image of the character hasn't at all changed, in spite of the fact that I just met him this summer. I get the feeling the character is largely based on her husband, but there's never any physical description of him that would have caused me to picture someone like her husband when I read the books. I guess it's like the way when I was in Oxford, whenever I got lost I kept ending up in the same place, and it's the same place the main character in To Say Nothing of the Dog keeps ending up when he's time-lagged and not thinking clearly. I suppose there are worse people to share a mental link with than Connie Willis. Now, if only I could link to some of her talent while I'm at it.
Oh no! What's that in the sky, coming right at us? AAAAHHHH! We're doomed!