Here is the Tale of the FLOOD. It is less that a week or so before Christmas and I am up to take Albert for his walk. I should have know it was going to be a fairly bad day, because when I put my bare foot into my favorite mary-jane croc, it was full of cat ...shall we say PEE. Oh well, I rinse and am on my merry way, and walk into a surging wave of water that seems to be flowing across the Porcelain tile floor from the Guest bath. It has flowed under the door from that more distant part of the house into the family room and is rapidly advancing (like a blitzkreig) (sp but who cares at this point?) toward the kitchen of the house. Now I know what this means and my stomach sinks to my sagging knees. I am off like a flash, slashing through what seem like the breakers at Myrtle Beach, to wrench the handle on the toilet back to where it should have been some 12 hours before. This is not GOOD. Here is the end of the story. Water is great for plants, gardens and hot baths. It is beautiful at the beach with sand clean and white as an apron for lounge chairs. The water that is in my studio and guest room that has made the carpet float is a Little Dismaying. We are in the restoration phase now. The fans are blowing like they are trying to tear the drapes down and we are baking, so toasty with those de-humidifiers blazing away like it is summer in the Mojave desert. The content of my studio is now mostly in the dining room. I won't take a picture. My Christmas is...not broken. It is not pretty, tidy, or injured. My Christmas will happen. It will happen in my heart and in my family and in my Spirit like it always does. Praise God.