Geneve, I think I like you | Genève, je commence à vous aimer

The plaque I pass daily
without noticing

Tonight, I began to like Geneva a bit more. This evening's walk was punctuated by cannon fire. Yes, you read that correctly. Ambling through the streets of the Vielle Ville, admiring the glow of illuminated snowflakes against the deepening nightfall, we were startled by a loud sound. Curious people (and pup), we walked toward La Treille, where several hundred people were watching and participating in a commemoration of Geneva's release by Napoleon's troops in September 1813 and its declaration of independence on 31 December.  (They were speaking French, but of course Americans speak English...)

Why did this tickle me? I find the Genevois habit of commemorations quite charming. That these secretive and upright people will tog themselves out in historic finery, seemingly at the drop of a hat, shows a touching homage to tradition. The uniforms come complete with furry high hats that remind one of British bobbies, as well as furry backpacks, with blankets (yes, Swiss Army blankets) and tin pots attached.

An Angel Gets Her Wings

Tonight, as I was changing the lights on my Christmas tree (favorite lights+wrong current=poor idea), I kept accidentally ringing the bells that are nestled on several branches. Each time, I thought of It's a Wonderful Life, where Clarence announces that each time you hear a bell, an angel gets his wings.
For the past month, my friend and former coworker Dawn has been on my mind. She was diagnosed at the beginning of November with late stage cancer that had thoroughly invaded her body. I was invited by one of her dearest friends, another coworker, to join Hugs for Dawn, a Facebook group.