Did He who made the lamb make thee?

I'm wearing my new heather gray deep v-neck sweater with nutmeg cami underneath. I feel pretty. :-) I also feel a little beat up... I cut my finger on Saturday, and slammed my knee this morning (I have bruise that is a perfectly straight line, showing exactly where I hit it). I need a bubble.

The weekend was good. Got the last of the presents wrapped, and more decorations up... did some grocery shopping and we finally picked all of the pictures for our wedding album!! I think we found the right combination to meet both of our needs. It took a little blood, sweat, and tears... but we got it. Trav's parents sent us their picks for their parent album. Now I just need my parents and we are good to go!

I can't believe we are a week from Christmas and the high today is in the 60s. Although it isn't technically winter until Wednesday, that is pretty damn warm. I'm guessing a white Christmas isn't going to happen.

Here's a pretty snowy picture to hold me over:

(Of course, this was from February anyway...)

And now, to leave you with another poem (just accept it and move on).

489. The Tiger

William Blake.

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?