In Which There Are Christmas Cards and Sickies

8 December 2003

I was done with my Christmas cards last night, or rather, up to date on them: I had written all the ones that could be sent. Now I have another address and can send another, but that's good: leaves me with only one on my pile without an address, and I think I've done what I can in that direction. Mark still has a few left on his pile, but mostly we spent the evening watching the animated BBC version of "Soul Music" and writing Christmas cards.

"Soul Music" is really not very good. No, really. No, really. It's so bad. You may say to yourself, "But I am a die-hard Pratchett fan! I must see it!" And that's fine. I did something similar (Timprov warned me). But really: not good at all. Voices all wrong. Very sad.

Will we still watch "Wyrd Sisters?" Oh, yes; well, of course. As long as we have it here. You know. Might as well.

Anyway, in a very short amount of time -- possibly before this entry gets posted -- I will be done with Christmas cards. If you want one and haven't sent me your address, now is the time. C.J.'s mom was saying "way to make everyone else feel guilty, M'ris!" for sending them out early, but with everything else I have to do? I gotta be organized.

Also, as I may have said, this way I don't have to find out who forgot me. Because I already reminded them of my existence early in the month. It's like with my birthday. Some people like to test their friends and loved ones and make it a point of contention: You Forgot My Birthday! Not me. That is a test I want my loved ones to pass. So here's me! Here's my address, even, so you know where small pieces of brightly colored paper will reach me! And on top of that, I don't get offended if it's someone who doesn't do cards. So really, I make it pretty easy.

The reason Betty was taunting me, a few paragraphs back, about making everyone else feel guilty is that mine was apparently the first Christmas card she got. Wow. I got some in November and didn't send any until December. And the reason she was able to taunt me is that I was on the phone with her sicko son, finding out what a sicko he is. She and his dad were going to try to take him in last night to get de-sickified, but if they couldn't get an appointment or an urgicare dealie, then I will be on deck to take him today.

Drat anyway. I have the Lingen hiccups again.

Anyway, caring for the C.J. is on the agenda, as are groceries. We're out of milk and eggs and nearly out of baking powder. And while I could postpone Christmas baking a few more days and do without eggs and baking powder, we simply can't do without milk. We're also out of flour tortillas and any number of other important things. So. Groceries are necessary, and I'll do a Target run and a Kinko's run and probably a post office run while I'm out. Maybe a library run. I'm not done with Aegypt. I would like to be done with Aegypt. I'm just not enjoying it. I've read and enjoyed Little, Big and Engine Summer and The Translator, but this one is just leaving me cold so far. Maybe it'll get better later. And I think someone recommended it to me -- it's not on the library list, though, because it wasn't at the Alameda County Library, so I have to dig up the other lists, the later library list or the used bookstore list and see who it was who thought I should read it. I have an Alastair Reynolds yet from the library as well. I don't want to quit on Crowley -- he's been good to me before, so I feel like I should give the rest of this book a chance to get interesting.

I went through my list of books to look for, accumulated between September and now, and looked them up on the library catalog. So now I have an even longer library list than usual. Ah, the trials and tribulations of my life.

I had better get cleaned up and ready in case I have to make any kind of helpful use of myself today. And it won't hurt if I'm just a lady of comparative leisure, either.

Leisure. Heh.

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