I need song suggestions

I'm planning a 25th anniversary celebration next summer, and I need a song for each year, 1981-2006. I've been going through various lists online, and have come up with a few, and some of them keep showing up over and over. Except for a very few, they're not "our" "favorites". I would really appreciate suggestions. I need to know the song title, artist, and year. (I know 2006 can't be done yet.)

I'll Tumble 4 Ya

Well, spring is over and none too soon. I begin this summer in my second week of wearing a lovely "post-operative sandal" on my right foot. I have not had an operation, but that's what it's called. I think I hurt it May 6 when I decided I would be a big girl and drive to Southfield during rush hour. Well, apparently one does NOT merge onto Telegraph as if it were a freeway, even though that's what it looks like from the other freeway because it turns out CARS ARE STOPPED at the entrance. Fortunately, my companion shouted "Slow down!" as I was looking off to the side for my opening, or it would have been much worse. I was wearing high heels and punched the brake pedal as hard as I could. I did hit the car ahead of me, but not hard enough to deploy anyone's airbags. So in the next couple of days, day, when I complained my leg and my foot hurt, no one was paying attention as my mother had just had her entire left breast removed and was indeed being a big, brave girl. My foot continued to swell over the next few weeks so I finally made a doctor appointment. In the days leading up to the doctor appointment, I went to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon (rush hour again) and stepped up to a sample booth to get a little cup of potato chips. While my back was turned, a young man from a beer distributing company had pushed up an empty hand truck, flatbed, whatever, behind me,and looked off to the side. I turned around and banged my shin on it, and as I was absorbing the pain, still not looking, he continued to push it, and I took a SPECTACULAR fall...there was actual tumbling. There was much attention offered, and I gladly received all of it, but mainly I was worried about my foot. Now I have lovely bruises (healing now) on both my shins and up my left leg. My work schedule was changed and I had to put off the doc appointment a few days, but we finally discovered I had fractured my second metatarsal. Fortunately, it seems to be healing, and I'm totally getting out of all kinds of summer chores. I'm pretty sure I fractured it in the car accident, but the grocery store fall didn't help. So the guy from the beer distributing company called and apologized, and asked if my husband was a beer drinker, and if he played golf, etc. so they're going to send him a golf shirt. (he also said to call him if I had some medical bills from the accident, which i didn't.) He finally asked if there was anything they could do for me, and I said, "Well, I drink beer." (Not that I want a shirt.) Now we're just waiting for my foot to heal so I can go shoe shopping again, and waiting for our gifts. I'm also not leaving the house much without a chaperone.

The one time of the month I can be myself

I think it was comedian Roseanne Barr who said that PMS is the one time of the month that a woman can be herself. Well, I should have written a few days ago, then, but better late than never. Here is what's bugging me today. This is going to be pretty stream-of consciousness:

We rented the DVD Hotel Rwanda Saturday. I remember at the time that situation was going on, sort of vaguely listening and being very confused about what was going on. Anyway, after watching the film, I started reading a book of my son's that I had noticed for years but never picked up called We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families: Stories from Rwanda by Philip Gourevitch. It's very informative and written with a good deal of passion, and dealt with the question that I kept asking during the movie. How do you get human beings to turn on their fellow human beings like that--people they work with, go to school with, live beside? And what is inside some people that gives them the courage to do the right thing, and the intelligence to do it effectively?

I know it's not an original question. I know getting people to turn on others involves dehumanizing, vilifying, and scapegoating people. Hutu Power called the Tutsis "cockroaches", and Gourevitch points out that at one time, Tutsis even claimed the term as one that expressed their stealth and persistence. However, it was used to great and evil effect by Hutu Power in the 1990s.

After finishing Part 1 of the book, I skipped ahead to the last chapter. Gourevitch described watching an in-flight movie on the plane, and calling some people who did something evil and criminal as "white trash." I will not lie and say this is a term I have never used; however, I think I have always used it in a self-deprecating way. That doesn't make it OK. It just seemed contradictory to me that Gourevitch used this all-encompassing term to describe a criminal act after having written an entire book, in part discussing how making sweeping generalizations about people can cause others to justify mayhem.

As I have heard the term"white trash" over the years, it is not just a term used to describe people who are criminally racist. It describes an economic status, cultural preferences, lifestyle decisions, perhaps even a dwelling, e.g. the hideous synonym "trailer trash" which I have never used other than to say how much I hate it. The classism inherent in that phrase is overwhelming. A college student in 1995 pointed out that someone at a university using it might very well not know that the student beside them grew up in such a dwelling.

I looked it up, and discovered that the term "white trash" has origins in slave culture, used to describe white people of low economic status, lower than that of slaves who held more prestigious positions among slaves, for lack of a better way of describing it.

Anyway, it has become something else, and I frequently hear it used by people I consider enlightened. I can't figure out any distinction other than economic: poor young woman who decides to raise her child or children born out of wedlock: white trash. Young woman of upper middle-class status in same situation: making a brave decision to be a single mother. Or perhaps exercising her Supreme Court -given decision to make a choice for abortion. Don't get me wrong; I'm pro-choice, but if a poor woman makes the decision to raise her own child--she's risking being called white trash.

I know the response would be that people aren't using the term to describe all poor people, or all people from a geographical region, just the ones who...right. There are two kinds of whatever.

People with money often make the same very bad decisions that people without it do. They just have a greater ability to cover their asses.

I find the justifications for using the term a giant load of elitist bullshit. But that's just me and I guess I've made it pretty clear who I am, right?

Why life is like high school

I was substitute teaching yesterday for a very creative lady, kids love her, and I love subbing for her. I don't think I've ever met her in person but her classroom always looks like her brain blew up and every happy, pretty thing, along with all the thoughts in her head and wishes for world peace, and love of travel and children and books came swirling madly about the room until their momentum subsided and they gently floated down onto any random place.

Things in this classroom are always lying about and I am nosy, not to mention whenever I sub I conduct a search to see if the teacher stashes snacks somewhere. Anyway, I came upon a note to her from another teacher, apparently in response to a request for input on materials for teaching a unit on dystopia. He makes some suggestions about things he has found that worked, but here's what's bugging me: he suggested showing the film Brazil to the AP kids, and Gattaca to the others. Now truthfully, I only vaguely recall both of these films, but I know Brazil is the cultier, artsier one, and Gattaca is the commercial one with marketable stars.

In a post several months ago, I lamented that some kids seemed to be "ghettoized" for being a little more rebellious into classes that not only get them to examine their attitudes, but make wonderful suggestions for entry- level jobs in places like bakeries and amusement parks. I don't think this Brazil/Gattaca deal is quite the same thing, but it bothers me in the same place in my gut. I suspect most HS English teachers were probably AP types. This note suggested a rather condescending attitude to me...only the ones like "us" are going to "get it":" we'd better dumb it down for the rest of 'em.

I'm understanding more and more why life is pretty much like high school.

Good things, Bad things, Not sure yet, volume 2

Good things: I'm feeling much more positive than usual. I don't know whether it's yoga, some nice times with friends, or what, but I'm just feeling like everything's going to work out. Or maybe I just felt so crappy for a while that I just had to feel better. Not as bad as I felt a couple years ago, though. The upside of that is that I learned how to relax a little bit, and that the dark times pass.

Bad things: Mom has breast cancer and is having surgery next week. I know not to get too scared until we find out the entire story after surgery. I'm going to go to the hospital the day of the surgery then spend some time with her as she recovers. I'm continuing to hold on to positive thoughts, and she sounds like she is, too. No matter how you look at it, though, cancer is scary and it sucks.

Not sure yet: I've got projects to do and exams next week, as well as the tests and research papers I have to correct for my own job. I think I might be eligible to get my post-bachelor Legal Assistant certificate, but I don't know if one of my classes will count toward it. I'll try to see someone next week about it. I only have until May 6 to apply for it, so I'd better hurry.

Now that I've met my twice a month posting average, I feel much better.

Something fun

I'm not sure how to do this so I might have a lot of junk up here, but found this on The Ehtical Werewolf's website. My results: 65% General American English (Not too surprising for an English teacher, but perhaps a little more homogenized than I think is cool); 20% Upper midwestern (OK; there is my Michigan identity. Pop rules!) 10% Midwestern (Mom's from southeastern Missouri); 5% Yankee (from TV?) and 0% Dixie. A couple issues, though. When I lived in the Detroit area, I almost always said bag. When I moved to mid-Michigan, sack started creeping in. Now, in terms of groceries, in my mind it's paper bag and plastic sack. Also, as a youngster, I said tennis shoes, but as I grew older and more interested in language, that seemed inaccurate. Tennis shoes are those tiny, feminine looking ones, and the big, clunky engineered ones are sneakers.

My dark side shines at Daylight Savings Time

For about the past 8 hours, I 've been feeling like I'm headed in the direction of the insomniac dark side. I think it's the time change. I woke up in the middle of the night just unbelievably pissed at every perceived slight in the past month or so. Then I wept and wept.

I don't like myself when I'm like this. I turn on the unsuspecting, snapping at them like they are responsible for fixing this.

Maybe it's not just the time change. For my legal writing and research class, we have to research and write a memorandum about a hypothetical social host liquor liability case. In order to do this, I have had to read a lot of cases where tragic things happened, usually to minors. Because it's easier for me to think that way, I used actual names in the rough draft. It's o.k.; these cases are all public record. The instructor advised me, though, that it's too confusing. It's true a lot of people show up, and keeping everyone straight is difficult. I don't know how it becomes less confusing, though, if you keep repeating,"a minor" or "a 19-year-old" or "plaintiff's decedent." It feels a little disrespectful to me. These are real things that happened to real people with names and faces.


I am not cynical about the law in general. Most of the people I meet are sincerely interested in the public policy considerations which underlie the legal system, although they will admit its inherent inequalities. It just alarms me, though, to think that in order to help people, one has to become detached when reading about or dealing with these things. It's necessary, I guess, but it just seems like there's something not...nice, about it. Like if I learn to do this, I'm going to turn really cold-hearted or something. I know that's not true, and clearly, I just admitted in the second paragraph I can be kind of mean sometimes, anyway. Maybe I'm just worried that that's the side that will take over, and I'm really invested in being thought of as a "nice" person.

And here's something weird. When I read these cases which usually involve parties and drinking and subsequent tragedy, I really want a beer or a glass of wine. Not to escape the feelings, but more like, "Hey! A beer really does sound good right now." Because I am then rather shocked at myself, I don't have one.

And perhaps it's something I read in a comment on a student evaluation from last fall...they were generally positive, but of course, those aren't the ones I obsess over. I'm intrigued, perplexed, and maybe saddened over one comment in a section about anything in general the student wants to say about the instructor. It said something to the effect of "...not too friendly, which is the way I think it should be." What? I don't know what to do with that.

Go Green!

Exciting stuff: Both the men's and women's MSU basketball teams are going to the Final Four. Things are always just a little more fun around here when the men are playing in the Final Four, but the women, too...very cool.
I must be honest and say that there is much that I do not understand about the game, except the very basics. Nevertheless, we have been sharing season tickets with another couple for the men's games for the past four years or so, which is why this year is especially fun. I really want this for the seniors. When you watch people play over the course of their college career, you feel a connection to them, even though you don't know them.
Next year we'll have to start going to the women's games, too, I think.

Good Things/Bad Things/Not Sure Yet

Good things: February is over. I feel about February the way Dana feels about Ohio...it is just a big waste of space that gets in the way of getting where you want to go.
Mom gave me an excellent gift.
Spring break starts soon and we can go someplace that is probably (please) warmer than here.
Bad things: Even though it's March, it's still so freakin' cold. There are piles of hideous snow on the ground. What would be quite charming in December is so depressing in March.
Not sure yet: We thought we had bought some time, like maybe a couple of years, to postpone and prepare for some major decisions. However, now our hand will be forced in one way or another. We must now make those huge decisions, but will have to go into "hurry up and wait" mode in order to collect enough information to make them. At any rate, whether we are ready or not, our life will soon change in big ways.

Lenten disciplines

Now, when I take the time to observe it, I recognize Lent as a wonderful time to take a step back and work on some of life's harder stuff, at least the stuff that's hard for me. There is the "giving up" of something (sometimes) but that's only the beginning. For me, this year, it will be candy. Since my husband and I have been making "lifestyle changes" for our health, he thought I had already given that up, but no. I have a compulsive candy habit, recently fed by the leftovers from the giant bag of mini-packs of Jelly Bellies that I had purchased for Christmas stockings. (1 serving=3 mini-bags, 150 calories).
That is so I can be more mindful. I love to eat what I call "monkey food," especially when I am reading or studying--tiny food that I can mindlessly pop in my mouth.
I want to extend the theme of mindfulness into "getting my house in order" both literally and figuratively. I feel burdened by several tasks, large and small, that I need to (or want to) accomplish; many of them I keep forgetting to do. It is due to a lack of organization and discipline, and I believe by addressing these things I can free myself spiritually and emotionally.
In my mind, I call this "getting the monkeys off my back." During this time, perhaps I will also think about why I seem to be obsessed with monkey metaphors.

Ageism at home and abroad

Although this is supposed to be a blog about "middle-age" (there's got to be a better phrase), sometimes weeks go by and the issue doesn't really come up. Then, it seems to come up again incessantly.
Yesterday, I was talking with a fun, pretty, talented friend/relative of mine, and she talked about being in church yesterday, and they announced there would be a Valentine's Day dance. She thought that sounded like a lot of fun and that she and her husband might go, until the rest of the announcement explained that this was for people in their 20's and 30's. She stated that this was the first time she ever felt "old." I think many of us have this moment, and often, it is foisted upon us by outside forces.
Her husband is 39, and I asked her about using this "technicality." Sounding dejected, she said that it felt pretty clear that they meant 35ish as an upper limit.
Later, I recalled having a similar situation several years ago when I was in my 30's. Again, this is an event I wanted to attend, but my husband was in his 40's. Where did we fit in?
I thought at that time about challenging the situation and forcing the issue of people who didn't fit neatly into a category, but didn't have the gumption, energy, or whatever. I just remember feeling annoyed.
Another issue was that earlier this week, the issue of age (as an outgrowth of vocabulary about food, health, nutrition) came up in my class. A Korean student reported being very surprised to see older people working at Wal-Mart and other places. An elderly person just wouldn't be allowed to work in his country, regardless of his/her preference. Reteirement is mandatory. That one made me feel good about being an American, because, regardless of one's feelings about Wal-Mart and other such places, it's nice to know that if you want (or need) to be in the workplace in some way, you can.
Finally, the AARP magazine has been reporting on a class action suit, that, although initially dismissed, has been readmitted into the courts. A group of writers has brought a class-action suit against several studios for blatant age discrimination. Many of them were either fired or not hired to work on television programs, despite lists of successes and awards for their work. The prevailing idea is that studios wanted TV shows for young demographics, such as Friends, written by young writers. The writers claimed it is ludicrous that older (and in Hollywood, "older" starts pretty young) couldn't write for young audiences. One writer stated that Shakespeare wasn't 15 years old when he wrote Romeo and Juliet. That's a bit of a stretch of a comparison, but makes the point. Also, older people have been young, but younger people have not been older. Perhaps that accounts for some of the stereotypical, offensive crap regarding age which I have noticed on some sitcoms lately.
To that end, I am going to start taking out my frustrations out on this blog when I see offensive images/comments/stereotypes in various media. Although I like to avoid that kind of negativity because I feel when you always go looking for trouble you will inevitably find it, I think it's important. I will also try to notice positive images and activity as well.

Charlie and Jack: Better than Prozac

Yesterday as I went to church, I was really feeling the need for comfort and inspiration. In the past several weeks, several things have occurred which affect my life, but I have no real control over (at best, I might have influence, but ultimately no control). These are all things with consequences I will have to deal with sooner or later. I have been losing sleep, and while I'm trying to maintain a positive attitude, it's not easy.
However, during church, there were baptisms scheduled, as there often are every few weeks. Two families had babies, and one family had an 11 -month- old baby and two older kids, 6 and 7, I think. After the first baby baptism, the pastor moved on to 11-month-old Charlie. As the pastor was anointing/sprinkling him and saying, "Charlie, I baptize you in the Name of the Father..." Charlie looked him right in the eye and started strumming his lower lip and making that sound...you know, like bbb bbb bbb. The kid's comic timing was perfect, and I wish I could communicate the perfection of his delivery. The whole church broke up for about three minutes; when the laughter finally started to die down, the pastor said, "What you didn't hear was his brother Jack proudly say, 'I taught him that.' " There was almost as much laughter as before.
During the remainder of the service, during the sermon (a pretty serious one about dealing with the unfairness of life) and the subsequent prayers, I kept trying to suppress chuckles every time I thought about Jack and Charlie's show. I don't know their parents, but they must be very cool, first for producing such funny kids, and second, for naming those little guys Jack and Charlie.
I feel a lot better now. I don't know if anything has changed changed, but something about their performance seemed to put everything in perspective for me.

Aging Baby Boomer prattle

So I'm feeling very aging Baby Boomer today. I wasn't until I was reading the "Source" section of the newspaper, in which it was reported that "aging baby boomers born between 1946 and 1964" had certain preferences in house designs. (The only one I strongly agreed with was good lighting, but I have been wearing corrective eyewear since I was four years old; good lighting is essential, and yes, even more so with age, it turns out.)
Also, I was reading that the film Meet the Fockers is doing well because it has something for everyone: Streisand and Hoffman for we old folks, and Ben Stiller for the young'uns. I haven't seen it, but it is true that I like Dustin Hoffman. However, I have also liked Ben Stiller ever since I saw him on a little-noticed comedy sketch show he had (I can't recall the name) that also featured Janeane Garafalo.
It turns out that Laura Bush is a Ben Stiller fan, too. I read it yesterday in Vogue. Now for anyone who knows me, it definitely seems incongruous for me to have a Vogue subscription, and it is. However, I got a card that offered it for $1.00 an issue, and you could get a free red bag if you paid with your order. Well, I love free stuff (and red stuff), and I will read anything. I read like The Count on Sesame Street counts. It is compulsive and frequently non-discerning. Vogue also features pretty, shiny pictures of pretty, shiny people.
Anyway, I read Vogue like I watch exercise shows or Fit TV--curled up on the couch (until recently, with a bag of chips) and saying "Huh."
The aging Baby Boomer feeling is also a by-product of too much time off, I think. I stayed pretty busy through the holiday season, but now I know I need to go back to work. It's almost 1:00 and I'm still in my PJ's, I have started to get interested in one or two storylines on All My Children, and I've been stopping way too long on Jerry Springer when I flip through the channels.

Lexiconic Archaeology: Time to Buy a New Dictionary

Who would have thought that a casual glance at the back of my paperback dictionary would cause me to think its time to look into retirement centers? I keep a couple of dictionaries at my desk, but the big hardback one is too cumbersome to take down from the shelf when I'm preparing vocabulary tests or attempting to prove a family member wrong about their pronunciation of a word. When I got this dictionary, it was fake leather-bound and had a matching thesaurus and came in a little case. It was a wedding gift from the owner of the answering service (another clue to its vintage) where I worked at that time. It has long since been liberated from its "leather" prison, but for some reason I never read the back until yesterday.
It boasts:
*The only paperback dictionary based on the up-to-date, continuously maintained Webster's New World citation file. Many entries, including those below, do not yet appear in any other paperback dictionary:
bait-and-switch laid-back sleaze
beefcake lithium carbonate soaper
biorhythm magnet school streetwise
blow-dry motocross stir-fry
blue flu nerd Sunbelt
blusher paralegal tank top
chemosurgery parenting videodisc
DWI prioritize off the wall
glitzy scuzzy whirlpool bath
health food out of sight wing it
househusband slammer zit

At least that explains some of my moral failings. During my childhood, parenting and health food had not yet been invented, nor was I able to prioritize. Interestingly, despite the absence of zits, I was still able to develop a good many of them. I'm afraid I was a nerd: just ahead of my time, I guess. And wouldn't you know; just as I was getting married, beefcake appeared on the scene.
I also know now why I waited until middle-age to take paralegal courses. And because I am a good English teacher, here is my source: Guralink, David B. (ed.). Webster's New World Dictionary of the American Language. Fawcett Popular Library: New York, 1979.

Ghettoizing the rebels

As a secondary substitute teacher, I have had the opportunity to spend time in four different school districts. I'm amazed by kids in general and teachers in general. There is a lot of creativity and intelligence out there, which I find encouraging. However, in some places I find a bit of an undercurrent which I can't quite think of a word or phrase to describe, and it alarms me.
I was subbing in one particular suburban school district (in which I have been employed in the past as an adult education teacher and a summer school teacher, in addition to some contact with its alternative high school). During the plan period of the teacher I was subbing for, I was asked to go assist a teacher in another classroom. I was informed that it was a classroom for kids with mild "special needs." (That particular phrase, along with "high-risk students" is one that could use some re-thinking.)
It soon became apparent to me that this was an "attitude adjustment" class. As I looked at the way kids were dressed, and their comportment, I felt that they probably were not "fitting in" quite right with this formerly rural, increasingly suburban, McMansion- sprouting community. I listened to one young lady read aloud from an article about using language that helps us take personal responsibility for our reactions ("I felt angry" as opposed to "It made me mad.") Really, I support this kind of thing, but as I listened her reading fluently and expressively, I wondered how she ended up in this class.
A little later, we watched two videos about people who began work at entry level jobs (the first at Six Flags and the second one at a commercial bakery) and ended up having satisfying jobs in management. (Yeah, life works that way in general, I thought.) Having taught a Career Exploration class in Adult Ed and having shown such videos myself, it wasn't really so much the videos themselves that bothered me. Somebody has to manage Six Flags and the bakery, and I sincerely believe there is pride in all work. I love patronizing any business where things go smoothly and employees are well-trained and fairly compensated. (Full disclosure:I also patronize businesses where that does not happen, something I might want to work on.)
Then there was a follow-up essay to the article, in which the kids had to personalize the strategies suggested. The girl who had impressed me earlier said, "I really hate that Mrs. X (the absent teacher) keeps giving us these assignments where we have to change our attitude. I like my bad attitude! I like my good attitude!" I wanted to scoop her up and take her off to an art or music or writing class.
I don't want to be unfair. Having worked in several situations with difficult students, I understand they can be disruptive to everyone and just a pain in the ass in general. However, some of them are extremely creative and funnier than hell (My particular favorite was a summer school student who made a pop-up, pull-out book in response to "The Miller's Tale", which I kept and was advised not to show to anybody) and ask questions that deserve to be asked. Should we really be "socializing" everybody? This particular school district seems to do an especially efficient job of ghettoizing the rebels, and I don't think that's good for either the students with a tendency to conform or the ones who are inclined to challenge everything.

Some New Year's resolutions I can actually keep (if I have the stomach for it)

Keeping in mind that it has become too difficult to beat them, I will take the path of least resistance and join them:
* Even though I despise bullet points, I will use them as much as possible.
* I will say things like, "Give it to Bob or myself."
* I'll talk about my friends "out of Detroit." They are all out of Detroit, literally, now, so it will be true and obnoxious at the same time.
* I'll use semicolons quite frequently; and my use of them will be inappropriate and pretentious because a comma would be more appropriate. I will say it is "journalistic." (I will also continue to use quotation marks in a sardonic manner [but only in writing], because that's just fun. I will, however, quit using air quotes.) I will also continue to overstate points in order to accommodate my OCD.
* I will use the word parenthetically in conversation as much as possible.
* I will use the verb to vet whenever possible, and I will finally find out where and when that word originated. I understand that to say investigate is just too many syllables in these complicated times.
Finally, just for personal pleasure, not to "join them," ( because they generally don't do it) I will work the phrase "patriarchal hegemony" into as many conversations as I can, no matter how inappropriate or irrelevant.

Tsunami

The tsunami disaster is so huge, it's hard to wrap one's mind around it. It's like when someone talks about a billion dollars...it's too big and it's very hard to relate to. You see the pictures on TV and you know this is a horrible, horrible thing. At the same time, unless you know someone there, you feel distanced from it. When there is a disaster, and they tell the number of Americans who died on the news, it can be infuriating, like they're saying that's what matters. I think the purpose, though, is to make it more real for people. I pay more attention to things that happen in the world now if I have, or have had, students from that country, or if I have visited that place. Also, because this was perpetrated by nature, not human beings, the sense of helplessness is compounded. There is no one to hunt down and punish. I guess all people can do is make some contribution towards disaster relief, or for the very bold, go and help with it.

Post-Christmas

Although this was a wonderful Christmas Eve/ Christmas (mostly), I'm glad it's over. I used to not want to take the decorations down after New Year's Day, but now I think I will put a few things away every day so it's not such a daunting and depressing task at the end of the holiday season. Because there is so much stuff, I think I can still maintain an air of festivity while still taking down some stuff each day. What I'm really dreading is seeing the credit card bill next month. Since my husband insists on paying it off every month, I'm anticipating a dreary January, in which I will have to eat healthy food, go to the gym regularly, and avoid shopping, movies at the theater, and restaurants. What kind of life is that? Actually, once I get into it, I will enjoy living like that.
Also, this is really superficial (per my quest), but I got a Coach purse for Christmas. I've never had one, and it's beautiful. It's downright cuddly. Although I have requested one for years, and thought I might get one next summer, I got it for Christmas and it was a total surprise, which made it very special.

Jingle Bell Vault

Last week, my husband and I made a decision about Christmas music. Just as Disney puts movies "into the vault" where they can't be accessed until the studio re-releases them, we are sending five songs every year "into the vault" for five years. We will then decide if we ever liked them. (A couple are no-brainers.) Our nominations for this year are "Jingle Bell Rock," "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," "Frosty the Snowman," the barking "Jingle Bells" dog, and I can't remember the fifth one. It was going to be "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" but it gets a pass this year because it's the 40th anniversary of the Christmas special.Oh, yeah! It was "The Little Drummer Boy." Along with Frosty and Rudolph, it goes in the category of bogus made-up Christmas stories that turned into animated specials. If these songs are played in our presence, there will be repercussions. Those will probably include our grousing at some length, which can be quite intolerable.

My New Rule

Here is something that's bugging the crap out of me--the neighbors across the street put up their Christmas decorations a week ago. Now I am a lover of freedom of self-expression, and I hate stupid neighborhood association rules that dictate what color you can paint your house and how you can landscape it, blah, blah, blah. Your property is your little piece of the earth for which you have paid dearly, and while I'm all for architectural integrity and that kind of thing, a good many of these people who make neighborhood association rules don't know what the hell they're talking about. They also make rules like no clotheslines, because damn it, who cares about using all the energy we want to run our gas dryers? (Don't get me wrong. I love my gas dryer. I'm just sayin'.) However, I would support a federal law that said no Christmas decorations before the day after Thanksgiving. (Retailers have different considerations, so they are exempt.)

Also, I love Christmas. However, since I am now one of the ones with the major responsibility to make the magic, it's a lot of work. I save personal energy all year so I can cook and shop and wrap and decorate and entertain. This is why I need Thanksgiving. Even though I am hosting Thanksgiving dinner this year, and that too will be a lot of work, it's different. Thanksgiving is laid-back and sweet and relatively simple. Therefore, I don't want Santa and reindeer and bows and lights and a lit-up American flag and all manner of glittering kitsch staring me in the face everytime I look out my living room window. Believe me, no one loves glittering kitsch more than me after Thanksgiving. I love that these people go all out. They do it for Halloween too. I realize that some people like to put up the lights on nice days so they don't have to do it in the freezing cold, but they don't have to turn them on. Can't they wait two weeks?

Thanksgiving is wonderful, and it's for everybody. People like me will inundate everyone soon enough with our peculiar celebrations of this religious season. Can't these folks give everyone a break, and let Thanksgiving be the lovely calm before the storm?