Plans for a less disastrous Christmas

It's somewhat axiomatic that holidays become more divisive the moment you marry, and moreso if your spouse's family and your own do not live in similar areas of the country. Since marrying, Jeff and I have become privy to the marital practice known as Holiday Juggling, to wit:

"We'll visit your family on holiday X, and my family on holiday Y, and then we'll alternate holidays each year…"…so that we never spend a lot of time with each family, and manage to pacify both. It's frustrating and requires a lot of driving time, to say the least. My parents live in rural south central Arkansas; his parents live in rural northwestern Alabama. We are an hour and a half away from Jeff's parents, and seven and a half hours from mine.

The counting of blessings.

A day of mixed emotions: thoughts both happy and mundane. Ranging from "I should cook something nice tomorrow since it's Valentine's Day" to "I should remember to set out the recyclables for pickup today."

I haven't written much lately, and I know it's concerned some people who are close to me. You're right to be concerned—silence, on my part, is an indication that something isn't wholly right with me. You're correct to assume that if I stop writing—something I care as much about as I do that particular activity—that there's something going on in my mind equally important.The overwhelming majority of my life has been uneventful, but punctured with moments worthy of remembrance, both pleasant and unpleasant. I fear I am verging on remembrance.

A surprise visitor

Well, I certainly got my Christmas present today.

I should've figured out that something was up when Andy wasn't on ICQ last night. I know good and well that the only time he completely shuts down his computer is when he's not at his house.

You can probably guess who, along with Heather, showed up on my doorstep this morning. With the Christmas present (a signed copy of Orson Scott Card's book, Ender's Game) of course.So much for a quiet day of getting the house clean. Instead, we went grocery shopping, team-cooked a nice dinner, and socialized. We watched the Penguins game. I didn't do much, but I'm still wiped out.

I'd write charming pithy commentary, but my brain's starting to fuzz over from the antihistamines that I took. Hopefully they'll help me sleep, too.

It is the ads that make me angry

Tonight's Bubonic Mouse™ award goes to Colortyme—and, by proxy, every other rent-to-own shop in northeast Alabama with nasty guilt-tripping ads.

The first thing I heard in my car this morning was a spiel about how you should placate your family this holiday season. For your wife, buy her a bedroom suite to keep her quiet. For your children, a Playstation 2 to stop their whining.

Then it finished with the following jingle:"It's not what you thought.
It's what you bought."