An Update

Wow. It's been a long time. Lots to talk about, lots I wanted to talk about but have forgotten. This is going to be a very disjointed blog post.

First, let's get cat stuff out of the way. He seems okay now--missing several teeth, but okay. He did puke tonight, but I think that's just a cat thing. Cats puke. It's their thing.

Next, Christmas. I don't know why, what with me being so cynical, and miserable, and, um, Jewish, but I love Christmas. I became a top answerer in the "Christmas" category on Yahoo! Answers. (Seriously, I am ranked in the top ten. But I'm kind of bored of it now, since it's pretty much meaningless.) Last night I watched (and recited) It's a Wonderful Life. And I decided that if it were me, and I said, "I wish I'd never been born," and an angel said, "Okay, poof. You've never been born," I wouldn't question it. I'd just sort of say, "Wow. Well, that's great. No responsibilities, no attachments, no screw-ups. That's, actually, a really good thing." And then I'd look at my watch (assuming I still had a watch), and say, "Um, I think I'm gonna go get some pie. Wanna come?" Then I went to sleep to The Apartment, which is a Christmas movie despite not really being a Christmas-themed movie. It does take place on Christmas, though, so that counts. Besides, what says Christmas more than corporate misconduct, adultery, and a poorly executed suicide attempt?

And even though I mostly don't go anywhere, I did get to see some great department store windows and the giant Rockefeller Center tree. The Macy's windows were awesome. Santa on a roller coaster. And Willard Scott!

I am enjoying some new items around the apartment, such as my new Pergo floors and couch (courtesy of Mom and Dad and Home Depot and Ikea). I also scored some nice stuff on Black Friday. . . also from Mom and Dad--a new George Foreman Grill with removable plates (I'm old and domestic! Whoo-hoo) and very comfortable striped flannel sheets. It ALMOST makes up for the time we went to family therapy, and my father said, "I'm not embarrassed by her. I'm embarrassed FOR her." Almost.

I received some nice gift cardage for Chanukah that I anticipate using sometime soon, as well as a new wallet, some DVDs, and a child-sized Muppet backpack from my sister that was "only $2." Um, thanks, Sis. (She got me other stuff, too.) I love my Mom. She knows me so well. She picked out the perfect wallet for me--one that came with a gift receipt so I could exchange it for a wallet I really wanted. And now I don't have to carry around my credit cards and ID and cash in my pockets like a homeless person. . . Wait. Was that the best choice? Homeless person? Do homeless people have credit cards? Okay, Forget homeless person. Let's just say it makes me a little more organized and less like the slob I am to have an actual wallet.

But that got me thinking. . . why do we really need to use our ATM cards to get into banks after hours? Is the presumption that there are no serial killers or rapists or burglars with ATM cards? I'm sorry, bank people, but I'm not buying into your sad attempt at making me feel safe.

I have a bunch of movies to add to the log: I'm not going to hit 150 for the year, but I'm okay with that. I have 10 movies to go to reach the 130 milestone I hit last year. I'm kind of all over the place right now, balancing new releases with old stuff. I absolutely LOVED Sweeney Todd and would see it again if it weren't for
A) I should be seeing other movies
B) I really need to save some dough
I finally watched Marty this past weekend and loved it. . . largely for the happy ending. I love a happy ending. . . not all the time, but when it's warranted. In my mind, Debra Winger received a life-saving bone marrow transplant in Terms of Endearment and Sally Field acted as a surrogate mother for Julia Roberts so she wouldn't have to put her diabetic body through a pregnancy in Steel Magnolias. So when the poor schlub Marty finally grows a pair, I was happy. When Bing Crosby tells Ingrid Bergman she has tuberculosis in Bells of St. Mary's, I was happy. (Trust me, it's bad news, but a happy ending.) And I've just ruined the end of two movies for you all, which also makes me a little happy.

I decided to start answering all questions with the statement, "Thanks, but I'm trying to decrease the size of my carbon footprint."

I walked around with Wendell's teeth in my pocket for a week. I know that's creepy, but it made me feel like he was with me. Then it made me feel like I was going to get some weird cat disease, so I threw them out. Also, someone said to me, "You're too young to be the single shut-in cat lady." So that's something I'm working on. . . getting old enough to be the single shut-in cat lady. No, no. I'm working on forcing myself to get out more. So far, it's not working.

Lately I've been flipping a coin to make decisions. Sometimes, I don't follow what the coin says. But yesterday, the coin said not to order a pizza. So I didn't. Wasn't that a good story?

I'm up 3 new pairs of pajama bottoms since November. Is there anything better than new pajama bottoms? I mean, a cure for cancer would be nice, but in the interim, nothing beats a fresh pair of Performance Fleece lounge pants from Old Navy.

Well, that's about it for now. If you're still reading. . . wow, you have a more boring life than I do! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old Building and Loan!

Oh, and I need to start reading again. . . I know I keep saying this, but since I dropped some coinage on two new books, I need to keep my word. Which would you choose?
Why Zebras Don't Get Ulcers
The World Without Us

I started providing links to the books, but then I decided I want anyone choosing to choose based on the title alone.

I'll try not to go so long without posting again. And if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't go any farther than my own backyard. . . because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with. Oh, shit. I have GOT to stop randomly quoting movies.