I am not a baker, the Mrs. is the expert in that field. Giver her some flour and a few other ingredients and the kitchen will smell amazing in a few hours time.

But once a year, I pull the Crisco out of the cabinets and fire up the Kitchen Aid – since I was a little kid, we have always had my Grandma Johnson’s Christmas Cake. After she passed, we found the recipe and now my siblings and I all make it at this time of the year.

After 20 years of service, our Kirby had a part failure this week.

Spare carts wait outside a shop as the holiday season hits the frenzied point.

The Mrs. and I managed to get out of the house and go see a movie (Green Book, worth the time). Earlier, at the college, new signage is going in and it looks pretty sweet.

An evening colloquium with colleagues, a fine way to put the fall semester to rest. And, at home, cookies packaged for distribution to friends.

Winter is not the most scenic time to be in the North Georgia mountains, but it is when I tend to do some scouting for the spring photojournalism workshop.

On the way back, I did a double-take, pulled a u-turn and made a frame of a non-abandoned store in the middle of a partial renovation.

The boss and I wandered downtown to one of our favorite spots for lunch, a place only accessible when the students leave town. Up on the wall was a running tally of the football season.