To Joe, the tender of fire

New Post. I always wonder what will become of the post as I write. But then I wonder if people think I'm on a non-discript rant for half my blog. I dont intend there to be structure and flow. Sometimes a thought will lead me down a tangent. I thank you for reading anyways.

Tonight my thought is about Joe. "Who is Joe?" one might ponder. Any Victorian would point you to channel 51 starting about this time every year (I don't exactly know when it begins, but it was on for some of November too). Joe, my friends, is the man wearing the blue flannel shirt who pokes the firelog that is burning bright on channel 51. I want to turn it on right now. In fact I will.

I did. There is music playing this time. Sometimes they let the log burn bright just on its own and you get to listen to the crackling. Other times there is instrumental versions (and only instrumental versions) of Christmas songs. It's just lovely. I love it. And my Christmas garland is hung behind my TV and it just all is so festive and wonderful.

I recently confessed my love for Joe on our facebook group wall, to a response of, "Wow, you converted for Joe? He must be one awesome man!". Truth is, I heart Joe. Convert-worthy, I'm not sure its likely. But Joe is a great guy. That fire would go out if you weren't tending to it, and who would bring a glimmer of hope via blue flannel to our hearts? Sometimes he even adds logs and gives the fire a good shake. Even if his songs duties slack a bit, Joe is good people. I'm looking foreward to having him around for the holidays, and to get me through exams.

Rach, who is here and alive after a really interesting (aka intoxicated) Saturday night, but who spent the day recovering and hydrating, and is feeling alright. Only confusing incidents involving a(ITS JOE!! HE"S ON THE SCREEN!) kiss with a boy after a failed euchre game. Not involving consequences of said euchre game, but on his own accord, professing his general enjoyment of me, and me of him (this feeling of hearting each other in a mutual way). Those are all the details you get. And who did manage to squeeze in a Victorian night session this evening. It was pissing rain all day, and still was tonight. Foul.