Social Activities to Look Forward to in Old Age, as Observed and Noted in a Recent Octogenarianal Study

1. Visiting friends in the hospital, as selected from the church prayer list.

2. Scrabble marathons.

3. Getting hair and nails done at Assisted Living Home Beauty Parlor.

4. Visiting friends at another friend's funeral.

5. Being able to say anything you want and get away with it.

Lula says Merry Christmas!

She's pissed we forgot to get her a present.

Beef

So far, I feel like I have been dealing with the cold weather exceptionally well - especially considering I come from a place where it only snows like once every four years and 50 degrees is considered the dead of winter. However, I'd like to address an issue with Mother Nature: why is it that I have been experiencing an unparalleled run of ass-kicking hair days when it is impossible to step outside without wearing a hat?

When that April with his showers soote...

As a result of bald tires and snow accumulation, I had to resuscitate my old purple LL Bean backpack from under the bed in order to tote all of my required-for-work gear on the EL. It's been several years since I've even acknowledged its existence. I found that, just as it did in old times, the purple carrier's three-chambered system worked out perfectly for my needs. Book, keys and sometimes phone in chamber one, purse in chamber two and the usually cumbersome laptop nestles itself effortlessly into chamber three. When I first drug it out, the backpack, I discarded all of bits and pieces that had been left inside - pens, notebook paper, change, some kind of airplane cookie - without paying much attention, or, more importantly, remembering the past life from which they came. Today, as I was picking up those pieces to transfer them into the garbage bin, I looked down to see a folded scrap of notebook paper. Curious, I unfolded it. It read: Oliver PR 1905 P43 1992; Monta HQ1149.G7H46 1985, HQ1599.E5 M46 1998...and so on. My eyes lit up, serial numbers for term paper books. I remember - Oliver was my short, ruddy-faced, curly-bobbed, bicycle-riding, gruff-voiced-but-mostly-jovial Canterbury Tales professor. Monta was my prim, proper, almost-to-be-confused-with-a-church-youth-group-leader-but-much-cooler-and-liberal Early Modern Women's Lit professor. Man, I know I've still got those papers somewhere. I'd love to go back and read them. I feel like I was much, much more intelligent back then. But it was a lot easier to spend an entire day thinking only about the effect Chaucer had on literature in the middle ages and what his characters the Wife of Bath or the Nun said about the role of the female in his work. Nowadays I spend most of my time spacing out, or trying to figure out how to cut a story that really needs to be 1,000 words down to 500 because there just isn't enough space.

Stumped

OK, it's down to two: my sister and my stepsister. Stepsister I have and idea, that should be easy, but I have no idea in hell what to get my sister proper for Christmas. Anything that I might even think would be cool, she's already recieved in her ginormous acquisition of wedding gifts. Then I thought I would get her Rachael Ray's new cookbook. Not so much. Apparently my mom and my other sister thought a cookbook would be a good gift for her too. I called home to ask if my sister liked RR (I am quite aware that not everyone shares my fondness for Rachael's supreme dorkiness)and my mom informed me that she had already bought and wrapped a copy of Cotton Country (oft considered the bible of southern cooking) and my other sister picked out an Emeril cookbook. Right. So I'm asking for your help here. Any ideas. She loves cooking and entertaining, but seriously has everything you could imagine needing for that. I'm afraid to get her clothing because we have very different taste when it comes to that. That rule also applies to music and movies. And I really really don't want to get her gift certificates - I resorted to that last year. Help!

Observation

It is strange, all of these empty cars that line the ice-crusted avenues spitting out exhaust, swirling plumes of gray, into the crisp winter air. The drivers are absent, in their homes no doubt, preparing last minute for the journey - pulling on gloves, tugging at a scarf, turning down the dial on the thermostat just a little to help just a little with the looming gas bill to come. Their cars should be warm by the time they make it back; Their nearly frozen noses will sting when they sit in front of the heat-blasting vents. The heat is good, but dry. Tires crunch over ice and leaves.

Tuesday night confession

I've been wearing Old Spice Men's deodorant for two days. Tomorrow, most likely, will make three. This is the combined result of the last bit of my more desirable Ban shower fresh for women crumbling into pieces and falling onto the floor and the fact that it's too fucking cold to go get more.

Also I've been using someone else's mustard at work.

Snowmobile

Wiping the snow off your car - yeah, nobody told me about that. Ice scraping - yes, snow-wiping -no. Especially cumbersome when one is 5'4'' and the vehicle in question is an SUV. And the snow - it doesn't blow off once you start driving, even if that drive is on the highway.

In related news, I got my car registered today. I also got my new Illinois driver's license. I had to take a written test, which I passed despite of my confusion over the many state DUI license suspension questions that were given. I mean really, DUI = bad. Do we really need five variants of the same question on a 25 question test? 'All of the above' turned out to be a good answer for those questions.

So then it was on to the dreaded picture-taking station. I was worried and a little irritable because I have this gigantic bug bite thing on my forehead. It looks like I ran into a door. Seriously. Make-up did not cover it and I was seething the entire morning thinking I am going to have to spend the next 10+ years of my life with a frighten-small-children license photo. It didn't help that I spent the last five years with a picture boasting a sporty double chin that I just KNOW the lady that took the photo did on purpose* - she kept telling me to lower my chin - like five times.

Finally I just gave in, I mentally accepted the fact that I will be disfigured in my photo - this was mainly because I was overdressed and had been in and overheated building for two hours and was ready to just get it over with.

They called my name, I scribbled my signature down, took a seat lumping all of my belongings - jacket, purse, scarf, license plate I'd been lugging all over the place from the vehicle services department where I spent the first half of the morning - below my feet. I looked at the camera, as instructed, and smiled. I saw the camera click so, thinking that was it, I started to close my mouth and look down to pick up my stuff. Then, it flashed.

Great. Just great.

The good news is you can't see the giant red hump on my forehead in the picture. Instead I look quite perturbed. I described the look on my face to Mike this way: It's as if someone has just attempted to tell me a really bad and really annoying joke.

At least I am laughing when I look at my license this time instead of mentally spitting on a Louisiana DMV lady.

*I was not so pleasant on that trip to the DMV in La. due to a gigantic miscommunication issue between them and my dealership that left me with a flag on my license.