People who live north of me can and should laugh at this, but it's too cold for me to post anything long today.
This is sad, because I wanted to write about MacIntyre, and about Socrates, and about Kierkegaard… and I needed a warm place to sit and get some thoughts down. But I'm wandering around and can't find an open building. It's only 40 degrees out, but my fingers still get cold as I type. So I'm going to sign off, go home, write some stuff, and post it tomorrow.
Happy New Year.
(What an awful first post of 2009.)
P.S. I welcomed in the New Year by watching Spirited Away, which was as wonderful as always. What did you do?