As I noted on my Facebook page a few days ago, I feel most un-Adventy this year -- even after reading an essay by an Orthodox priest suggesting that Advent is a good time for depressives to enter into their feelings of sadness and emptiness, mourn their losses, gain some perspective through charity and service, and otherwise prepare themselves for the joy of Christmas.
That sounds very reasonable and therapeutic.
Meanwhile, I started assembling my Advent wreath (late, because of our trip) only to discover that half of it is still in my Christmas chest at Cold Comfort Cottage. I searched Pandora for Advent music, to no avail (although no real surprise there). Fellow Traveler is nursing an extremely painful eyeball that we think may be some kind of sty-ish/low-resistance infection thing, that is giving her a kind of Popeye appearance as she squints into the light. (She is now a partner in discomfort with Semi-Son-in-Law, who came down with shingles in one eye last month and spent the Thanksgiving holiday involuntarily accessorizing with a black eye patch; he tried to maintain a glass-half-full attitude by noting that his eccentric-possibly-insane-director appearance seemed to give him more professional gravitas wrangling Macy's parade entertainers.) My job appears to be starting the swirl down the drain of insufficient public funding and organizational regime change. And then there's...well...the news.
I'm waiting fot the "Wake, Awake, For Night is Flying" to kick in.