I am my Own Random Thing


Wherein Our Heroine Dispenses Small Pellets of Brain Matter for Your Amusement.
I am sitting here at the Inspiration Station today, but no trains appear to be running. For lack of a unifying theme (or even the delusion of one), here are some random nuggets:

Despite having lived up to his name recently, Dash has not bothered the Christmas tree at all. This is a relief, because we caught him streaking through the house last week with one of my "Rudolph" finger-puppets in his mouth ("Look Ma! It's perfectly mouse-sized!"). It was nice to know that he has good taste in abuse victims, though: he selected that sadistic little freak Hermey as his prey. I would hate to think of him going all jungle cat on Rudolph or Bumble.

I am halfway through writing my Christmas cards. For those of you who know me, you can get up off the floor now. For those of you who don't know me, it has probably been about five years since I have sent any Christmas cards out. Previously, I could excuse myself on account of "being busy." This year, I have no such excuse. I have only this to say: next year my excuse will be, "Even I can't read my own handwriting." Whether or not this year's batch will get out now depends on the purchase of postage.

My Christmas cactus is actually in the spirit. It has one, perfect, pink bud pointing at the sunshiny window. Dang. I need to get my paperwhites going.

I have noticed that nobody asks me what I want for Christmas any longer. Since everybody has asked me what John wants for Christmas, I assume that when you get married you don't just gain a partner: you also get a walking, talking Christmas wish-list.

Speaking of Our Hero, I still want a pony. Something like this would be nice.
Posted: Thursday - December 09, 2004 at 08:24 AM         | |

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