Today, looking to finish some Christmas shopping, Kathryn and I wound up at Brookwood Village. It's not at all the place it once was. At least a third of the stores are empty. It seems even the radical 1997-2001 overhaul into a "lifestyle center" (shudder) couldn't save the place. But there was a line of children, waiting to see a somewhat beleaguered-looking Santa. That was something, at least.
Whatever sadistic, tasteless motherfucker painted the walls (and ceilings!) of this apartment primer grey (or Soviet despair grey) should be beaten to within an inch of their life, then forced to live within the confines of their own light-devouring walls. I swear, the more lights we turn on, the darker it gets.
There was a marvelous flock of cedar waxwings outside our windows today. Lydia was head over heels.