Post-Holiday Post

My family's collective hangover from our Christmas travels and associated adventures seems to finally be wearing off. We were all up at 4:15 a.m. Christmas morning, on the road by 10:00 for celebrations #3 and #4, then all "slept" (tossed and turned) in the same bed at my parents' house because a 13-month-old who shall remain nameless refused to sleep in the crib. I think we all finally got a good night's sleep last night and life is returning to normal. Or will, as soon as I dispose of the shreds of wrapping paper still littering my living room floor.

I got 3 hours of sleep last night. Can a one-year-old have insomnia? The kid just didn’t want to sleep. I, however, might be passed out on my keyboard by 10 a.m.

In other news, today’s (actual) online headlines that fall under the “and that’s considered news?” category:

• Rocker Scott Weiland charged with DUI
• Britney skips child custody deposition
• Liza Minnelli collapses on stage during performance in Sweden
• Sweatshops crank out Wal-Mart ornaments
• Naked men shop for Skittles

"Can I refill your eggnog for you? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?"

The holiday letter. Like so much fruitcake, it’s an oft-maligned symbol of the holidays. Everyone loves to make fun of it but it just wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

I’ve never sent one, but I always like reading them. No one sends me ones that make me roll my eyes, except maybe my uncle who is filthy rich, has his own business, a lovely wife, a cheerleader daughter and a football player son who are both musically gifted and academically advanced. They travel all over the country/world every year, go to football and baseball games that no one else can get tickets for, have a summer home…you get the idea. The best letter I get is from an old college friend who must keep track of funny things her kids say during the year because she lists them in her letter and they are hilarious (especially considering she’s married to a minister and she doesn’t attempt to edit the quotes at all). I will post an example when her letter arrives (usually a week or two after Christmas—another reason why I love her; no attempt at Martha Stewart-like perfection for her).

Anyway, I decided to send a letter to that old roommate and another one. I have great memories of lots of fun with these women, but we don’t keep in touch except by exchanging Christmas cards so we really have no idea what our day-to-day lives are like, and I truly enjoy hearing from them. They each have 4 kids and maybe I felt like I didn’t have much in common with them anymore until Lauren arrived. I tried not to make it all about Lauren, but honestly, I don’t have much else to say about the past year that’s not about her or work, and no one wants to hear about the trials and tribulations of a Cincinnati ad agency.

So, I wrote them a letter. Okay, it was the same letter but I did personalize the greeting and actually signed my name instead of typing it. Maybe next year I’ll send it to everyone on my Christmas card list. But I doubt it. I just think there are too many people who think all such letters are cheeseball.

This is my life

I really want to do a better job of blogging regularly, but I suffer from the old “who wants to read about what I have to say?” thinking so I just don’t post very often. I think there are 2 or 3 people who read this anyway, so I wonder what the point is. Maybe it’s just to be more disciplined with my writing, forcing myself to post something (nearly) every day.

I mean, seriously, do people really want to read about my actual life? That I changed 3 – count ‘em, 3 – poopie diapers on Sunday? That the maids did a decent job last week but it seems that they sprayed Pledge on my kitchen floor in a not-so-subtle attempt to do me in while I’m coming around the corner in my socks? Or do my 3 readers want to know about how I spend my Monday evenings watching A Shot at Love, while unread classic novels collect dust on my bookshelf? Or that the All Bran commercial that simulates pooping (do you see a trend here) cracks me up?

‘Cause that’s all I’ve got, people.

End of the month wrap-up

Good Thanksgiving. I ate seconds of the sweet potato casserole my uncle made and I don't even like sweet potatoes. I suspect it had something to do with the 2" thick crust of brown sugar, butter and pecans it was wearing.

Everyone in my house is still sick. I finally went to the doctor today who diagnosed me with an "atypical bacterial infection" (of course) and sent me on my way with some drugs. Thank goodness.

My girl turned one yesterday and because Grammy was sick, I got to spend the day with her. We shopped, ate and napped. Pretty much how I like to spend my birthday, too.

My last football post of 2007. I promise.

My beloved Buckeyes beat Meat-chicken once again. Such fun. I work with 2 U of M fans who've been avoiding me (and the poor suckers both went to the game). I ran into one of them in the kitchen and the best he could come up with was "Oh, great, it's another Ohio State fan." I took the (moderately) high road and said, "I just want to say how sorry I am to see Lloyd go. I'd really prefer if he'd stick around for a while."

Now I just have to wait to find out who we'll play in the Rose Bowl. I'm actually glad we're not going to the National Championship. Too stressful for me.

In other news, everyone in my house has been sick. I got it last and now sound like Barry White and/or Marge Schott, depending on if I'm just speaking or laughing. I really hope this is gone by Thursday because I don't want to be sick for the long weekend. We're going to my mom's and for once are not doing a whirlwind 24-hour trip. I'm looking forward to relaxing and visiting with people and eating...and eating...and eating. For all his, uh, quirks, my stepfather is a fabulous cook, so I'm very excited to eat the feast he's no doubt already working on. And I'd like to be well so I can actually taste the food. Right now everything tastes the same -- like the inside of my cotton-lined mouth.

Let's Make it 1-6

Sorry, I have nothing to post about except sports. God help me after this Saturday.

After last week's humiliation, thought we could all use a little something to get us hyped up for the big game. Take 7 minutes and 40 seconds to see why Ohio State owns Michigan.