Santa

Santa came early and left me a pack of round tuits under my pillow this morning. The first one seemed to be some sleep, because I locked the cats out and went back to bed, but I've cleaned the bathroom and installed the towel bar that's needed fixing for months now. I can't decide if I want to tackle the back hallway or the living room next. Living room involves presents, which involves the letters. Hrmm.

I did get all the cousins taken care of yesterday - hit the mall early while I could still get parking, and then ended up at Jo-anns for circular needles so I can do this sock thing. Dru didn't ask for anything in particular for Christmas (the laptop request doesn't count) so I thought I'd make him socks. They probably won't be done in time, but I doubt he'll care.

Laundry. Lots of laundry, then lunch, and we'll see where to go from there.

Just east of Indianapolis

I've finished the main letter, and I'm about to start personalizing them, but I can't find my bloody calligraphy set! I've unearthed a couple of pens, but the main box, my lovely wooden square box with all my nibs and inks has vanished. The worst part is that I last remember seeing it in my room at the old house back in August. I've been hunting up and down, boxes and basement and still, nothing. Grr.

Dru called while I was in the basement the first time, and then Dad called me while I was, again, in the basement. 'Call your brother!'

He headed out from New York this morning, and he's driving across country. He'll hit Kansas City sometime tomorrow, spend the night and grab the last of his things from Mom&Dad's basement, and get to Colorado a few days before me. Mom provided books on tape, Dad got him the cell phone, and he's sounding pretty happy. He spent the last few days with Cousin Whit in the Bronx, instead of with Uncle Graham, so now I have gift ideas. Ah well, fodder for next year, I suppose.

I need another day off. To do stuff. One week, and I'll be in my very own mountain cabin in the Rockies. (We'll ignore those pesky facts: rental condo on a golf course. It's still in the Rockies!)

And somewhere, somehow, find that damn calligraphy box!

Boycotting Walmart

I've decided that Walmart is a conglomerate of sexist, racist pigs (witness the class-action suit against them), and I won't be patronizing the fascist bastards anymore.

I'm pretty lackadaisical, but evidence damns them, and it's little skin off my nose to boycott them until their corporate policies become a little less draconian. They're giving dragons a bad name!