The Year is Dead. Long Live the Year.

Resolution:
- Keep things going in the same useless rut because I like comfort.

New Year's Eve Plans:
- Watch a marathon of Richard Widmark movies
- Eat ice cream (Marsha Marsha Marshmallow) and have a pot pie
- Maybe have a bath

I know that this year will be different because ...
- I'll have to change the way I write the date on checks (06, remember, it's 06...)

Here's a cute toddler to round out the post:

Higher Standards?

This came in to our office general email today. It includes a Bank of America logo at the top ("Higher Standards") which has been pasted from the BofA Careers page, and then it just jumps into bad grammar right from the gate, dissolving finally into the last paragraph which missed the Spellcheck. You'd think they'd put some effort into it ... They don't deserve my credit card number:

Dear Bank Of American Customer

You are required to upgrade your account before the Holidays to prevent any suspension during or after the holidays.Once this is done,we will give a $100 Holiday Giveaway to all members who takes part in this offer.To upgrade your account, please take the following steps :

1. Login to your Bank Of America Online Account or if you have not been registered, choose your desired login and enter all the required information, including your Client Card Number or Business Card Number and your password.

2. Complete the form and you will be notified via email when your bonus has been credited into your Account.If in 36 our you don't get any emails to confirm your uprgade please contact our Bank of America staff imediately.

alma maiter maiter dee

Today I received my collector's edition of photocopied photos from my 20-yr high school reunion. Oh sure, I told them I was dead, but when I asked for my transcripts last year they were onto me like pip on squeak. I didn't have the $60 or the inclination to attend the reunion, but I was curious and threw down the $15 donation for the commemorative booklet.

Where are all the crush-boys now? Keith Pacholl, Jere Vandewalle ... although I'm pretty certain I read somewhere that Jere had become Father Jerome. doh! He was cute as a little button. And all the boys I used to hang around with at lunch: Lionel, John, Pete Claar (who was too good for any girl -- just the sweetest, handsomest guy you ever did see and he only had eyes for Jeaneane and she treated him bad-bad). And what about Trish Bricken, the mayor's daughter? Or Therese Peffer who stole my date to the Christmas Formal?

Therese went to the reunion, but I didn't really recognize anyone else. Well ... Walter Moneypenny looked the same -- he played clarinet and would often be thrown into the trash can at the bus stop. None of the crush-boys went, and, although some of the names were familiar, I couldn't really place most of the other people. Craig Ashby? Dori Dumon? Susan Enders? Who are these people? They were in my class?

Which got me thinking ... Am I remembered? And is it only as "that girl with glasses, braces and the stupid hat who drove the old car" but otherwise completely nameless? "Oh yeah, you ... you played cymbals in the band, didn't you?" I'm sure Therese would squint and say "I stole your date? Are you sure? Aren't you Tim's sister?"

And then I didn't care.

But geez ... I never thought "Squeeb" would get married ... let alone have kids.

Crazy.

I'se Gots Book Larnin'

Ladies and Gentlemen .... I am .... a GENIUS

Straight A's for my first term of college. 4.0. Never had a 4.0 before. Had a 3.5 once, and a 3.7 that semester I didn't take a math class in high school, but never ever ever a 4.0. I'm still not entirely sure how I worked the A in Italian, since I continue to have trouble with the Gi-Ci-Chi-Ghi's, but the A+ in Writing is because I'm super smart ... and because I read some of the papers in that class and I'm 99.9% positive that he graded on a curve.

And I found out today that I've worked so much over these past few months that I have somehow -- even with school and all -- accumulated 53 hours of vacation time that they'll have to pay me for because we're still short a person and I can't take any days off before the end of the year. So I can maybe git me some a-them store-bought Christmas cards. I wonder if they still have the Gorey cards at Borders...

This also means a Starbucks gift card from mom -- I'm sorry S&W, I tried Espresso Roma, and I really want to support local business, but those pint glasses for tea cups are scalding and the kids smoke cloves on the back patio. It just doesn't have the corporate blanket-comfort of a well-furnished Starbucks. And they know just how much space to leave for the milk ...

God, I'm such a lackey to the Man ...

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I'd like to take a moment for a brief, yet in-depth study of my favorite phrase:
You people

I hear this a lot during the holidays, usually in conjunction with some bit of illogical nonsense: "You people promised I'd have my package today." "You people broke it before you shipped it." And on and on ... It's as though "you people" gives some indefinite weight to their argument: If I can blame it on someone - anyone - then my gripe is legitimate. But, since they don't know really who it is that's responsible, it falls back on a general condemnation of the entire business. "I don't want to say 'you' because I know that 'you' didn't actually make the error, but I know it was one of 'you people.'" This way they're nearly close to being right, or right enough to garner sympathy. They're the victims of you people.

Doesn't that make you feel bad-bad?

Honestly, the ones that get in first may get some sympathy from me, but call at the end of the day and it's no good. By then I'm spent. You people really take it out of me.

That is all.

This is the end ... my friend

Things I'm going to do now that school is over:
1. finally see the bottom of my laundry basket
2. read books I want to read instead of ones I have to read (starting with "One Hundred Years of Solitude" ... strangely not as much my autobiography as the title made me think it was)
3. get around to thanking silvia and mark for the gifts from sweden/denmark/norway n' stuff (dude, the double lighter is effing brilliant)
4. catch up on my port drinking
.... wait. I've already done that one
5. call friends and family who think this monkey's gone to heaven (sheryl, did you already have the baby? he's in high school now, isn't he?)
6. clean the house. ach! you have no idea what a sty it is here what with the boy's clothes piled in the library, all of those electronic wires and parts on the kitchen table, the pieces of stereo equipment on the floor of the living room ...... hey ... wait a minute ...

digression----
song lyric that makes me happy:
"Meet me on my vast veranda"
The Decemberists are the bestest.

How to Make a Patitza

(but no idea how to spell it ... in fact, it may be potica if Google is to be believed)

First you get the flour, then you get the dough ... then you get the weemen...

Then the dough gets bigger

and bigger

Then you start laying down the magical ingredients (butter, cheese, love, crack or whatever it is that makes you keep eating it and eating it)

Then comes the best part: ROLLING and this is a new method that the cousin is trying ... well, it's an old method, but new-ish to us. She's using the prep-sheet to let the dough roll naturally on its own.

Finally, it goes into this funny pretzel shape, which you can kind of see here if you look really close at the bottom of the photo:


But here's what it looks like when photo'd by a professional:

And, the best part:

The thrill of victory, the crowning glass of wine, the joy as you watch your friends and relatives eat, eat, eat. Carbs are not always the enemy...