Twas the Fifth Day of Christmas

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Twas the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a star fish and chocolate chip pumpkin bread.  The star is so small, yet a wonderful reminder of awe and delight.  I go to bed each night under stars in the sky, near star fish in the ocean, and a special star sitting in the wreath at my front door.

We had dinner with a dear friend last night, in the Marina district of San Francisco.  We parked the car next to the Palace of Fine Arts where I recorded the Nutcracker earlier this month for Westlake School of the Performing Arts.  It adds up to serious holiday spirit.

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Palace of Fine Arts, San Francisco
I’ve always wanted my sweetie to sit down with me to watch a random movie on any weekend morning.  It’s hard for her, given her proclivity to get things done, not waste time, but she turned on a dime.  But last night our friend told us about John Oliver’s last show, that we managed to miss. Before going to bed last night I watched the last show on my phone.  A call to action, if ever there was one, for those of us who still cannot believe that Mr. Trump is our president elect. We watched it together, this morning, while the pumpkin bread backed.

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May the little star above light your way today.

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