A workaday Christmas

Despite the 72 scanner calls about respiratory distress and having to eat fajitas for Christmas dinner, it's been a pretty nice day.

My roommate gave me a DIY book on small home repairs and projects -- thinking maybe next time she breaks her sink I can fix it, plus a new game and, best of all (or maybe worst of all for my diet) a panini press. And not just like some cheap-ass George Foreman grill, it's a Breville.

Dang.

I feel bad now that I just got her a teapot-for-one, some shi-shi teas and a Barnes & Noble gift card.

The day is almost over, and tomorrow I get to fly to Boston for my birthday weekend. So excited. I'm already packed, except for my jewelry and a couple other last-minute essentials and am sooo ready to go. Go go go.

Boxing Day is what?

I got tapped to do this year's Boxing Day story because I, apparently, was the only one in the room who knew what Boxing Day is. OK, one of a few.

My mission: To hunt down vacationing Canadians and ask them how they are celebrating Boxing Day. I've been stalking the parking lots at IHOP for a few days.

Now, I grew up with Canadian parents who observed Boxing Day as the holiday it is in Canada, Great Britain and Australia. My dad never worked on Boxing Day, my mom always made sure she put out tips for the mailman, garbage man, and anyone else who performed services.

That's what the day is for, after all. That and gathering up -- boxing up, if you will -- gifts and items for the poor.

Not only could I not find many Canadians here this winter, the ones I did talk to told me what Boxing Day has become. A day of shopping. Fucking consumerism. So a day that was all about giving has now become all about greed.

I think my parents would not be pleased.

My Christmas Tree

This is my first Christmas tree in my new house.

I'm sure my therapist would have something to say about the fact that I've put up the tree in the corner of my living room that's devoted to my Titanic collection.

Whatever.

Also, apparently, South Carolina doesn't believe in icicles. The kind you put on your tree -- the long, thin tinsely kind. I spent YEARS learning from my mom exactly how to place them properly, and now I cannot find any to put on my own tree, and for the rest of the holidays, I'm going to wander around my house feeling like I've forgotten something important.

South Carolina non-icicle-having bastards.

Bears! In our trees!

We have bears! Bears right here in the MB!

I just noticed I haven't posted here in almost a month. If you had asked me how long it has been, I wouldn't have guessed more than two weeks.

How does that happen?

I don't even know if anyone is still reading this, but I'll catch up this week, anyway. If no one is still reading, I'm going to rant away. ha ha.