<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101</id><updated>2009-12-27T18:59:35.787-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Gal's Musings</title><subtitle type='html'>These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age (52). I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live in the burbs and work in the city (Chicago, the best city in the world).  I'm a daughter, a friend and a colleague. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2514</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-65217510676101767</id><published>2009-12-27T12:09:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T12:28:49.628-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='charity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Of Zoey and Jeremy and Neil</title><content type='html'>It wasn't a good Christmas and I just can't shake it. Perhaps someday I will blog about the details, but I can't right now. Instead I'm comforting myself by wondering how the kids at the children's home&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szel9DVg1PI/AAAAAAAAGQk/uQpNTXusGdE/s1600-h/0008561204821_215X215.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 156px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szel9DVg1PI/AAAAAAAAGQk/uQpNTXusGdE/s400/0008561204821_215X215.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419983144849822962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; -- &lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/singin-holiday-blues.html"&gt;Zoey and Jeremy and Neil&lt;/a&gt; -- enjoyed their presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zoey got the coat she asked for, in pink, with along with a pair of Dora the Explorer sunglasses. I tossed in the sunglasses because I wanted her to have a little fun, just in case the coat is a tad utilitarian a gift. I bought Jeremy sweats and a miniature book about Rudolph because a clothes gift can be lightened with some reindeer games. And Neil got the pajamas he asked for, plus a picturebook tie-in to Disney's 3-D &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Christmas Carol&lt;/span&gt; with Marley's apparition on the cover because ghouls can be cool to an 8-year-old boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also think about my donations to the toy drive at work -- especially the special retelling of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Marley and Me &lt;/span&gt;and the package of holiday-themed lipglosses, hoping that a kid with an affinity for pets and a girl who dreams of make-up received them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am fortunate that giving can fill me with joy. That I have enough imagination to visualize faces to go with the names. It means I have happy memories to attach to Christmas 2009, no matter what. I don't want to become like my friend, &lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/11/mad-or-sad.html"&gt;John&lt;/a&gt;, who refers to December 25 as "just a day."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-65217510676101767?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/65217510676101767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=65217510676101767' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/65217510676101767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/65217510676101767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/of-zoey-and-jeremy-and-neil.html' title='Of Zoey and Jeremy and Neil'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szel9DVg1PI/AAAAAAAAGQk/uQpNTXusGdE/s72-c/0008561204821_215X215.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-3242978928966711989</id><published>2009-12-27T00:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T00:28:23.864-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blog'/><title type='text'>New Year, New Template</title><content type='html'>It was time for a change. This is bolder and cleaner. Perhaps it's foreshadowing what's in store for 2010. (What do you think, Snarks?)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-3242978928966711989?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3242978928966711989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=3242978928966711989' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3242978928966711989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3242978928966711989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/new-year-new-template.html' title='New Year, New Template'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-6326232644711454457</id><published>2009-12-26T23:50:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T00:08:33.692-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mutterings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>Unconscious Mutterings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szb5iqrtwjI/AAAAAAAAGQM/kDqYKRW8O_s/s1600-h/um-mug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 110px; height: 110px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szb5iqrtwjI/AAAAAAAAGQM/kDqYKRW8O_s/s400/um-mug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419793575555482162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I haven't "muttered" in quite a while, but here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Classified :: Information&lt;br /&gt;Praised :: Flattered&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Censored :: Redacted&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;2010 :: Champagne toast&lt;br /&gt;Lamp :: Light&lt;br /&gt;Alternate :: Girlfriend (with apologies to &lt;a href="http://www.metrolyrics.com/alternative-girlfriend-lyrics-barenaked-ladies.html"&gt;The Barenaked Ladies&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Script :: Font&lt;br /&gt;Handsome :: Crush&lt;br /&gt;Eager :: Anxious&lt;br /&gt;Meeting :: Appointment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To play along yourself, click &lt;a href="http://subliminal.lunanina.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-6326232644711454457?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6326232644711454457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=6326232644711454457' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6326232644711454457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6326232644711454457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/unconscious-mutterings.html' title='Unconscious Mutterings'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szb5iqrtwjI/AAAAAAAAGQM/kDqYKRW8O_s/s72-c/um-mug.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-4649297317309127784</id><published>2009-12-26T17:55:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T00:19:48.743-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>An exceptional movie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szb8VuXDP_I/AAAAAAAAGQc/LiqfKLYxTS4/s1600-h/up_in_the_air.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 219px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szb8VuXDP_I/AAAAAAAAGQc/LiqfKLYxTS4/s400/up_in_the_air.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419796651739135986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Up in the Air&lt;/span&gt; is smart and sexy and funny and very believable -- even with a rather daring plot twist toward the end. George Clooney plays a grown up, which bodes well for a long and graceful career (meaning he doesn't embarrass himself by wooing women half his age the way Jack Nicholson did).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since so much of this movie is about downsizing, and what a profitable industry it can be for some, be sure you're emotionally prepared to see firings onscreen. Really. I imagine that if this movie came out a year ago, when I expected to be fired every other Monday, I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, watching it reinforces why when earlier in this decade, as three people who worked for me were let go, I'm glad I insisted on being there. There is a dignity to handling it correctly, and a kindness to letting employees vent their anger to your face. I believe it makes it easier for them to move on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-4649297317309127784?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4649297317309127784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=4649297317309127784' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4649297317309127784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4649297317309127784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/exceptional-movie.html' title='An exceptional movie'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Szb8VuXDP_I/AAAAAAAAGQc/LiqfKLYxTS4/s72-c/up_in_the_air.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-4572235976216681500</id><published>2009-12-26T11:07:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T11:13:31.895-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sigh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>This day may be shot to hell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzZDz0CTO2I/AAAAAAAAGP0/r-D2nvjuEcI/s1600-h/ncis-cast2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzZDz0CTO2I/AAAAAAAAGP0/r-D2nvjuEcI/s400/ncis-cast2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419593759007652706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What can compete with an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NCIS&lt;/span&gt; marathon? Thanks alot, USA Network.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Santa, even though I forgot to specifically ask for Gibbs, couldn't you have left him for me Christmas morning anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-4572235976216681500?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4572235976216681500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=4572235976216681500' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4572235976216681500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4572235976216681500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/this-day-may-be-shot-to-hell.html' title='This day may be shot to hell'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzZDz0CTO2I/AAAAAAAAGP0/r-D2nvjuEcI/s72-c/ncis-cast2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-6095157835967697112</id><published>2009-12-26T07:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T07:36:19.254-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saturday 9'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>Saturday 9</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzYQtLSlTRI/AAAAAAAAGPs/ahsnW0OevWs/s1600-h/sat9logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 43px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzYQtLSlTRI/AAAAAAAAGPs/ahsnW0OevWs/s200/sat9logo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419537569897860370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://samanthasaturday9.blogspot.com/"&gt;Saturday 9: Sam's Last Stand of 2009&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. What did you think of 2009? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It was better than I thought it would be, but it still kinda sucked.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. What do you think was the news story of the year? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Barack Obama's inaugural.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. What happened this year that you never want to hear another word about? &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;TIGER WOODS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;4. What was your favorite song of 2009? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"My Life Would Suck without You" by Kelly Clarkson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. What did you accomplish this year? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's all health-related. I have a work-out regimen now (not that you can prove it by my behavior since Thanksgiving) and I have my complexion under control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Did you learn anything new this year? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lots of little things related to #5. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. What are you looking forward to in the new year? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A bit more tranquility.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. What are your plans for New Year's Eve? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't know yet. I'l be in Key West, and will just go with the flow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. What's the best thing you ever did on a New Year's Eve? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was in a new relationship, that really "hot" phase. So we made out, went to dinner at a comedy club, came home, made love, messed around on the futon while watching a Bogart-Bacall movie ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-6095157835967697112?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6095157835967697112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=6095157835967697112' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6095157835967697112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6095157835967697112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/saturday-9_26.html' title='Saturday 9'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzYQtLSlTRI/AAAAAAAAGPs/ahsnW0OevWs/s72-c/sat9logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-8031239905845575204</id><published>2009-12-25T20:49:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T20:52:47.104-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Yea! Buddy's On!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzV6YSqtTyI/AAAAAAAAGPk/8m3r0ZgyqyU/s1600-h/Elf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzV6YSqtTyI/AAAAAAAAGPk/8m3r0ZgyqyU/s400/Elf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419372284356677410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for showing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elf&lt;/span&gt;, USA Network! I love Buddy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-8031239905845575204?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8031239905845575204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=8031239905845575204' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/8031239905845575204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/8031239905845575204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/yea-buddys-on.html' title='Yea! Buddy&apos;s On!'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzV6YSqtTyI/AAAAAAAAGPk/8m3r0ZgyqyU/s72-c/Elf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-5824425224381179940</id><published>2009-12-25T13:46:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T14:40:39.947-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>A rather more Christmasy memory of 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/09/today-is-my-uncles-birthday.html"&gt;My uncle is a complicated man&lt;/a&gt;. Until about 20 years ago he was driven by success and money. He believed (perhaps still believes) that success and money give him power, gain him acceptance, if not love. This attitude makes him a bit of a dick at times. His slow, slow but inexorable deterioration due to Parkinson's has not improved his disposition or his outlook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To tell our story, his and mine, two things must be included: (1) His life was shaped in large part by his service in Viet Nam and (2) while he may have been unpleasant to others in my family, I have never had a gripe about how he has treated me personally. I have many girlhood recollections of his kindness and fun we had together, and I keep those always at the forefront of my memory when I deal with the sick, grumpy, difficult old man he has become.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is why chatting with him last night (Christmas Eve) was so touching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He doesn't join us for family holiday celebrations anymore. His days are often bad ones and he isn't up &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzUe9tvB-6I/AAAAAAAAGPc/9IeXNkAwvuw/s1600-h/letters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 136px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzUe9tvB-6I/AAAAAAAAGPc/9IeXNkAwvuw/s320/letters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419271772207971234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;to having many people around. But he sent a gift for me to over to my mom's house, and he called to be on the phone with me when I opened it. The package mostly contained old family -- OK, old family &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;pet&lt;/span&gt; -- photos. But there were also a pair of old notes, one from 1994 and one from 2003, that I sent him. I was thanking him for introducing me to the Beatles back in February 1964. I was very moved that he had kept them all these years, that he had moved them with him from house to house, and saddened that he returned them to me. It was his way of letting me know he appreciates me, and of making sure they aren't disposed of when he dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sad to learn, too, that he didn't understand &lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/09/its-beginning-to-look-lot-like.html"&gt;my Christmas gift to him&lt;/a&gt;. Enclosed with his card were a letter from Operation Shoebox and a list of goodies donated to soldiers in his name. He said he saw "something" in the card but couldn't really "follow" it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter, really. He seemed just as happy that I sent him a card, and two soldiers in Afghanistan had a happier holiday because of the stuff they received.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-5824425224381179940?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5824425224381179940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=5824425224381179940' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/5824425224381179940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/5824425224381179940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/rather-more-christmasy-memory-of-2009.html' title='A rather more Christmasy memory of 2009'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzUe9tvB-6I/AAAAAAAAGPc/9IeXNkAwvuw/s72-c/letters.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-5352155096634585265</id><published>2009-12-25T08:54:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-25T09:55:08.822-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Portrait of Amy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WARNING: This is not a Christmasy, sentimental post. It's just something I need to get off my chest (and into my blog) so I can get past it and feel Christmasy and sentimental. If you're not prepared for a bit of bitchy today, please don't read on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzTeqrFIZlI/AAAAAAAAGPU/zEpxTU3da00/s1600-h/19thcentury.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 233px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzTeqrFIZlI/AAAAAAAAGPU/zEpxTU3da00/s320/19thcentury.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419201076333667922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-i-want-for-christmas-is-professor.html"&gt;Recently&lt;/a&gt; my friend Mindy and I were discussing the March sisters and wondered if anyone reads &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Little Women,&lt;/span&gt; meets the character of Amy and says, "Hey! That's me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if my kid sister has ever read &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Little Women&lt;/span&gt;, much less seen herself in the character of Amy, but she certainly could. For the description of the baby of the March family on &lt;a href="http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/littlewomen/characters.html"&gt;SparkNotes&lt;/a&gt; reads, "She is given to pouting, fits of temper, and vanity; but she does attempt to improve herself."               &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My 44-year-old baby sister is sharp-tongued, yet insists on seeing herself as weak and put upon. She also has a tremendous sense of entitlement. Her happiness, her comfort, is everyone else's responsibility and she never fails to view me in the worst possible light because it supports her self perception as sensitive, powerless, unappreicated heroine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to go into detail on the Christmas 2009 manifestation, but let's just say I wish she was more comfortable smoking indoors at my mom's house. In holidays gone by, she would have gone downstairs with my mom, had a cigarette and complained about how awful I am. Then, once she had her smoke, she would calm down a bit. I never knew exactly what was said about me, but I could tell by the looks she would shoot me that I was in her doghouse. However this year, she stood in the kitchen, washing dishes with my mother, and complained about how awful I am while I was within earshot. I was on the phone with my uncle, who asked to talk to me and my mom but no one else in the family -- maybe that's part of why she's so bitchy,  I don't know -- but I heard every word she said about me. I was only a few feet away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the tension between us mounted, I left the room and called a cab to come take me home. I wanted to get out of there, I ached to get to church, I wanted to remember the true meaning of Christmas. My niece, the other most-frequent target of "Amy's" ire, followed me and wanted to make sure I was OK. I assured her that I was and kept my feelings about her mother to myself. My niece knows what her mother is like, after all, and besides, IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was distracted all through the candlelight service. I am angry at myself for that. I was just suddenly so weary, so angry, so hurt that I couldn't be in the moment. So I'm trying to cleanse myself of the upset by posting. I want to feel Christmasy on Christmas Day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-5352155096634585265?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/5352155096634585265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=5352155096634585265' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/5352155096634585265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/5352155096634585265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/portrait-of-amy.html' title='Portrait of Amy'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzTeqrFIZlI/AAAAAAAAGPU/zEpxTU3da00/s72-c/19thcentury.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-3306122410435227836</id><published>2009-12-23T21:30:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T22:18:47.201-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heroine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>All I want for Christmas is Professor Bhaer</title><content type='html'>Had my annual holiday lunch with my friend, Mindy. We've known each other 30 years (I met her at the same company where I met John and Cathy) and while our lives have both changed tremendously over the decades, she has remained fundamentally the same: Sweet, guileless and romantic in her world view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the first things we bonded over back in those long ago days was books. So it wasn't unusual that before we exchanged gifts we happened upon two of our favorite characters -- Agatha Christie's Poirot and Jo from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Little Women&lt;/span&gt;. I reminded Mindy that she is the only girl I know who related to Beth, the middle sister who dies, as she read the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Little Women&lt;/span&gt;. She laughed and said the dying part does make Beth kind of a bummer role model, but says as a girl she was just as shy and dreamy as her favorite March sister. There's still a lot of young Beth in grown up Mindy. We agreed that I remain ineffably Jo: independent and impatient.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I ope&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzLn6pEC7LI/AAAAAAAAGPM/Tg-iufryc7Q/s1600-h/vTFN-202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzLn6pEC7LI/AAAAAAAAGPM/Tg-iufryc7Q/s320/vTFN-202.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418648296321379506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ned my gift, I was happy to find a key and lock necklace (not unlike this one) and matching earrings! We both expressed the hope that I will find my own &lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2007/07/under-umbrella.html"&gt;Professor Bhaer, Jo's supportive an&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2007/07/under-umbrella.html"&gt;d accepting lover, who proposes to her as they stand together in the rain, sharing an umb&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2007/07/under-umbrella.html"&gt;rella.&lt;/a&gt; Since it was raining today, we figured it would be easy for me to find my professor today because so many men had umbrellas. It's an umbrella that would really be the key to unlocking my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a sweet fantasy and a generous wish for the New Year. Which makes it very Mindy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;* We can both name women we know were Megs as girls. Jo is one of the first heroines I ever related to. And, of course, Mindy saw herself in Beth. But do any girls see themselves as Amy (spoiled and superficial)?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-3306122410435227836?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3306122410435227836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=3306122410435227836' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3306122410435227836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3306122410435227836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/all-i-want-for-christmas-is-professor.html' title='All I want for Christmas is Professor Bhaer'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzLn6pEC7LI/AAAAAAAAGPM/Tg-iufryc7Q/s72-c/vTFN-202.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-7758381340002256594</id><published>2009-12-23T20:44:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T21:16:24.574-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Done for the decade</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzLcndsTI8I/AAAAAAAAGPE/m0X3feVj8Dw/s1600-h/bc92c5eb6039f50e_landing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 199px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzLcndsTI8I/AAAAAAAAGPE/m0X3feVj8Dw/s320/bc92c5eb6039f50e_landing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418635872223568834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Most of my coworkers and many of my clients took today off, so I got into work very late this morning. I cleared up a few loose ends, organized my messy files, and literally filled a dumpster with boxes and manilla folders and bags and files from spring 2004. (I think if no one has asked for them in five years, it's safe to part with them.) I also took down all my holiday directions and tucked them away till next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I left he office at about 2:00, not to return until 1/4/2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hasn't been a terrific decade for my career or for my industry. Here's hoping that 2010 ushers in both a new decade and new leaf.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-7758381340002256594?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7758381340002256594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=7758381340002256594' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/7758381340002256594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/7758381340002256594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/done-for-decade.html' title='Done for the decade'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzLcndsTI8I/AAAAAAAAGPE/m0X3feVj8Dw/s72-c/bc92c5eb6039f50e_landing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-4894662746026127073</id><published>2009-12-23T00:56:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T01:10:39.504-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>I.  JUST.  CAN'T.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzHCSBPcwYI/AAAAAAAAGO0/c7vYtsdsyA0/s1600-h/Christmas+ribbon_553.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 155px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzHCSBPcwYI/AAAAAAAAGO0/c7vYtsdsyA0/s200/Christmas+ribbon_553.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418325441530085762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After a little over 5 hours, I am down to four gifts left to wrap. But I just can't go on. I still have to go to work tomorrow. (OOPS! Make that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;today&lt;/span&gt;!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got bags and bags and bags littering my livingroom. Old Navy, Borders, FYE, Kohl's ... If it wasn't for my love of the planet, and my fear of Al Gore, I would just toss them. But no, I will shmush all the littler ones inside a big one and hopefully find a place to recycle them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-4894662746026127073?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4894662746026127073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=4894662746026127073' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4894662746026127073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4894662746026127073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-just-cant.html' title='I.  JUST.  CAN&apos;T.'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzHCSBPcwYI/AAAAAAAAGO0/c7vYtsdsyA0/s72-c/Christmas+ribbon_553.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-4505261505605646047</id><published>2009-12-22T19:19:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T19:44:44.166-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>The Queen's meme</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzF04pycMUI/AAAAAAAAGOc/GPsYfGyQqrI/s1600-h/TheQueensMemeLogoa.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 90px; height: 132px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzF04pycMUI/AAAAAAAAGOc/GPsYfGyQqrI/s200/TheQueensMemeLogoa.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418240343342330178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;1.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; What is the most annoying Christmas song?&lt;/span&gt; Today, anything by &lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/sorry-sam.html"&gt;Sammy Davis, Jr&lt;/a&gt;. It's a mood I'm n.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;2.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Name one annoying thing that happens to you each time you get together with your family during the holidays.&lt;/span&gt;  My mom will rhapsodize over one of our relatives who is a real repulsivo, and I will bite my tongue. The illusion of a healthy, happy family is so important to her that I just send my mind to the happy place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;3.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; What is eggnog? Think about it. Does anybody really know?&lt;/span&gt; Eleven secret herbs and spices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;4.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Don't take this personally but there are lots of fruitcakes walking around. Have you encountered any real live nuts lately?&lt;/span&gt; All the people who bitch and complain about the families blocking the sidewalk as they check out the Macy's State Street windows. Duh. Christmas comes this time every year. The holiday windows are famous. What do these grumpy nutballs expect? Walk on the other side of the street!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;5.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Why were the nine Lords a'leaping in those annoying tights???!&lt;/span&gt; Chafing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;. What is the most annoying Christmas gift you've ever received? What did you do with it??&lt;/span&gt; Someone gave me Barbie doll clothes when I was clearly a mature, sophisticated junior high school-aged woman who was beyond such frivolity! I don't recall what happened to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;7.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Let's admit it: Christmas, with all its splendor and goodwill, can also be a pain in the royal patootie.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How do you plan to circumvent annoyances this year and enjoy the season? &lt;/span&gt;I think most of the frustration and annoyance will be behind me once I get all the gifts wrapped. But I've been getting through it by reminding myself that the annoying moments will pass and I shouldn't let them ruin my holiday. Oh, and I drink alot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;To play along, and avoid spending the holidays in the dungeon,&lt;br /&gt;click &lt;a href="http://mimiqueenofmemes.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-4505261505605646047?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4505261505605646047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=4505261505605646047' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4505261505605646047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4505261505605646047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/queens-meme_22.html' title='The Queen&apos;s meme'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzF04pycMUI/AAAAAAAAGOc/GPsYfGyQqrI/s72-c/TheQueensMemeLogoa.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-1393468893527757696</id><published>2009-12-22T14:03:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T14:09:25.445-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Sorry, Sam</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzEnC77VLjI/AAAAAAAAGOU/A_lYXIyHYco/s1600-h/91b9ff75b3299d93_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 161px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzEnC77VLjI/AAAAAAAAGOU/A_lYXIyHYco/s200/91b9ff75b3299d93_large.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418154758103182898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Sammy Davis, Jr., is bugging me today. I don't know why, since I'm the one who knowingly downloaded his renditions of "The Christmas Song" and "Jingle Bells," but every time he comes on he sounds smug and silly to me and I skip him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes Dino's carols sound a little too schmaltzy for me, too. I guess the only Rat Packer who doesn't ever wear out his welcome with me is The Chairman of the Board himself, Frank Sinatra. Maybe that's how you can tell the "good" from the "great."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-1393468893527757696?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1393468893527757696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=1393468893527757696' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/1393468893527757696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/1393468893527757696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/sorry-sam.html' title='Sorry, Sam'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzEnC77VLjI/AAAAAAAAGOU/A_lYXIyHYco/s72-c/91b9ff75b3299d93_large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-1712228893352751089</id><published>2009-12-22T11:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-22T11:28:42.729-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Theater'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><title type='text'>I loved hanging out on this corner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzEBqb6m-1I/AAAAAAAAGOM/hUyWtdjmYZ8/s1600-h/wallpaper-003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzEBqb6m-1I/AAAAAAAAGOM/hUyWtdjmYZ8/s200/wallpaper-003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418113655263132498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The musical &lt;a href="http://www.intheheightsthemusical.com/index.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In the Heights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; is set primarily on one street corner -- with a cab company, bodega and beauty salon. Those who live and work there  -- Nina, Benny, Abuela, and especially Usnavi -- seem like friends by the end of the evening. It's an uplifting story about change (the neighborhood goes from Irish to Hispanic, the kids grow into adults) and love and family. It's a warm and energetic night at the theater.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really wanted to go last night because it was the last time I'd see my theater buddy Barb before Christmas. Of course we had a good time (though over dinner she was so distracted by work intrigue and family issues that I almost took her iPhone away from her). But the play was a spectacular, unexpected treat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-1712228893352751089?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1712228893352751089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=1712228893352751089' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/1712228893352751089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/1712228893352751089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-loved-hanging-out-on-this-corner.html' title='I loved hanging out on this corner'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SzEBqb6m-1I/AAAAAAAAGOM/hUyWtdjmYZ8/s72-c/wallpaper-003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-4358100553884933025</id><published>2009-12-21T15:18:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T15:24:50.958-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><title type='text'>Perhaps I should feel bad, but I don't</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy_nieCs5JI/AAAAAAAAGOE/uKJ_Y4GfDpw/s1600-h/454a266f-003ad-06fdb-400cb8e1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 175px; height: 130px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy_nieCs5JI/AAAAAAAAGOE/uKJ_Y4GfDpw/s200/454a266f-003ad-06fdb-400cb8e1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417803456115958930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Instead I feel quite important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two freelancers my boss brought in were huddled together. One began, "She just has a way ..." Then he saw it was The Gal Herself on the approach and lowered his voice to inaudible. I like to think he ended his assessment with, "… a way of busting me when I get all pretentious and take my sweet time on a project, just to run out the clock and make myself an extra buck or two."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Wednesday I don't believe I'll ever see him again, so what the hell. For now I'll just add a touch of swagger to my walk, as befits She Who Has a Way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-4358100553884933025?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/4358100553884933025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=4358100553884933025' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4358100553884933025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/4358100553884933025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/perhaps-i-should-feel-bad-but-i-dont.html' title='Perhaps I should feel bad, but I don&apos;t'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy_nieCs5JI/AAAAAAAAGOE/uKJ_Y4GfDpw/s72-c/454a266f-003ad-06fdb-400cb8e1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-1185769790341677360</id><published>2009-12-21T13:49:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-21T14:14:22.273-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Office Observations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy_UUyoh8dI/AAAAAAAAGN8/bOED0XpD68Y/s1600-h/cd982db8c609c2d8_landing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 202px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy_UUyoh8dI/AAAAAAAAGN8/bOED0XpD68Y/s400/cd982db8c609c2d8_landing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417782330404237778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Everyone seems to be in a good mood. Perhaps it's because today is "Kids Day" here at the office,  and none of us wants to use the F word in front of a wee one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a project I could get started on, but ... well, I don't feel like it. The deadline is January 14, and I don't  know how far off that is because I haven't hung my new calendar yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, my feet are cold. How can I be inspired to great work with cold feet? I have an extra pair of socks (in an awful melony color) in the bottom drawer. I may just have to break them out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss left much of his work undone before he went off for vacation. So far, no one has asked me to pitch in. Which is good, because while I appreciate that the Christmas-y thing to do would be to accept the added responsibility and dive right in, I'm also still pissed that &lt;a href="http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/perplexed.html"&gt;he wasn't nicer about my gift to him&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to carols, which leads me to inventory the Christmas decorations I have displayed through my humble work abode:&lt;br /&gt;•  Santa on the door&lt;br /&gt;•  Christmas dog and snowman on the windows&lt;br /&gt;•  Little Drummer Bear above the file cabinet&lt;br /&gt;•  Red and green bows on the file cabinet&lt;br /&gt;•  Ornament and stocking hung on bulletin board&lt;br /&gt;•  A tiny creche beside my pencil sharpener. Just Mary, Joseph, the Baby and a lamb. It's too small for anything more, but that's OK. It's my favorite.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-1185769790341677360?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/1185769790341677360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=1185769790341677360' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/1185769790341677360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/1185769790341677360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/office-observations.html' title='Office Observations'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy_UUyoh8dI/AAAAAAAAGN8/bOED0XpD68Y/s72-c/cd982db8c609c2d8_landing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-7371805090638561878</id><published>2009-12-20T22:25:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T22:59:40.835-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday Movie Meme -- Holiday Favorites</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Share on your blog your favorite movies that either take place during the holidays, are about the holidays or just have a special personal connection for you with the holidays and link back here at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://thebumblesblog.blogspot.com/2009/12/on-movies-holiday-faves.html"&gt;The Bumbles&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. And don't forget to visit your fellow participants!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Elf (2003). &lt;/span&gt;I'm not a big Will Ferrell fan, but I love him for creating the enduringly adorable Buddy. When Buddy goes through the revolving door over and over again, it  cracks me up every time. Who doesn't smile at the thought of a diet of candy, candy canes, candy corn and syrup? I was between jobs when this came out and one afternoon, while Christmas shopping and worrying about how much I was spending, I slipped into a matinee and Buddy lifted my spirits immeasurably.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy8ANMPMW0I/AAAAAAAAGN0/B-do-cBdH6Y/s1600-h/31rELi1bPkL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy8ANMPMW0I/AAAAAAAAGN0/B-do-cBdH6Y/s400/31rELi1bPkL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417549103373245250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;The Gathering (1977).&lt;/span&gt; The Thornton Family reunites and tries to get past their differences to enjoy one last Christmas together … before Dad dies. The family has realistic, relateable problems and their reconciliations ring true. And I don't know how he knew, but Ed Asner gives a touching performance as my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mr.Magoo's Christmas Carol (1962).&lt;/span&gt; Oh, how I love this one! Especially the big musical finale at the Cratchit holiday table. "We'll have the Lord's bright blessings in knowing we're together, knowing we're together heart and hand. We'll have the brightest Christmas, the whitest, brightest Christmas, a Christmas far more glorious than grand!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;It's A Wonderful Life (1946). &lt;/span&gt;Jimmy Stewart had a long career filled with tremendous performances, but do any of his characters live on in our hearts like George Bailey does? My favorite scene has nothing to do with Christmas but everything to do with romance and lust and longing: watch for George and Mary sharing a single telephone receiver ... they're so close he can smell her hair and they're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dying&lt;/span&gt; to kiss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-7371805090638561878?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/7371805090638561878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=7371805090638561878' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/7371805090638561878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/7371805090638561878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/monday-movie-meme-holiday-favorites.html' title='Monday Movie Meme -- Holiday Favorites'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy8ANMPMW0I/AAAAAAAAGN0/B-do-cBdH6Y/s72-c/31rELi1bPkL._SL500_AA240_.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-6336942891725534794</id><published>2009-12-20T13:03:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T14:07:07.483-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>Poor Rodney Harrington</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy52y74GmVI/AAAAAAAAGNs/jwgrp-bmx4c/s1600-h/275883.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 380px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy52y74GmVI/AAAAAAAAGNs/jwgrp-bmx4c/s400/275883.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417398019211827538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been ensconced in the DVDs of the first season of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Peyton Place&lt;/span&gt;, the first nighttime TV soap. Back in 1964, Rodney Harrington, played by Ryan O'Neal, was a heartthrob. The rich, handsome playboy-college freshman, pursued by brunette Betty even as he pursues blonde Allison.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so strange and sad to see him as he was, and how he is now. I think it's more than just time that has taken its toll on O'Neal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child, I was forbidden to watch&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Peyton Place&lt;/span&gt;, which means I snuck to friends' homes to catch it. I had a crush on Norman, the more sensitive second Harrington boy, played by Christopher Connelly and shown at the center of the photo. He didn't have a girlfriend in the first season, but I recall that he eventually married a girl named Rita from the other side of the tracks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-6336942891725534794?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6336942891725534794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=6336942891725534794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6336942891725534794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6336942891725534794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/poor-rodney-harrington.html' title='Poor Rodney Harrington'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy52y74GmVI/AAAAAAAAGNs/jwgrp-bmx4c/s72-c/275883.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-971606581645884178</id><published>2009-12-20T10:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-20T10:10:46.389-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Take the Christmas Pledge</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy5MW1Wb6KI/AAAAAAAAGNU/zneTA8a3vrk/s1600-h/christmassnoop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 127px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy5MW1Wb6KI/AAAAAAAAGNU/zneTA8a3vrk/s200/christmassnoop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417351356935301282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;1. Remember those people who truly need my gifts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Express my love for family and friends in more direct ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Redirect myself to the spiritual growth of my family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Examine my holiday activities in light of the true spirit of Christmas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Initiate one act of peacemaking within my circle of family and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thank you, &lt;a href="http://kwizgiver.blogspot.com/2009/12/pledge.html"&gt;Kwizgiver&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-971606581645884178?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/971606581645884178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=971606581645884178' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/971606581645884178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/971606581645884178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/take-christmas-pledge.html' title='Take the Christmas Pledge'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy5MW1Wb6KI/AAAAAAAAGNU/zneTA8a3vrk/s72-c/christmassnoop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-8136881190215145580</id><published>2009-12-19T22:24:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T23:06:14.255-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sunday Stealing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Sunday Stealing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy2wbnsR9RI/AAAAAAAAGNM/V-uUQKDoCzY/s1600-h/SundayStealing.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 60px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy2wbnsR9RI/AAAAAAAAGNM/V-uUQKDoCzY/s200/SundayStealing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417179915354240274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1. What is your favorite holiday show/animated show? &lt;/span&gt;Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. I always watch that as I wrap Christmas presents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2. What holiday character do you think you're most like?&lt;/span&gt; Jo in Little Women (there's more than one Christmas celebration in the book/movies)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3. What holiday character does your spouse think you're most like?&lt;/span&gt; Dunno, seeing as he doesn't exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4. Favorite Christmas/holiday song?&lt;/span&gt; Silent Night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;5. Most hated Christmas/holiday song?&lt;/span&gt; Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;6. If you have an all holiday music radio station when do you start listening to it?&lt;/span&gt; Today. I was spinning the dial and found "Merry Christmas, Darling" by the Carpenters. (I have rethought the Carpenters, who I previously dismissed as a joke. She had a terrific voice and poignant phrasing. It's Richard's schmaltzy arrangements that so annoy me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7. If you have an all holiday music radio station do you love it or hate it? &lt;/span&gt;Yes. Hate it until the week before Christmas. Now I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8. Have you ever wrapped yourself as a Christmas present? &lt;/span&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;9. Who is Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer's father? &lt;/span&gt;Donner. Duh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;10. Do you drive your neighborhood or one near you at night to look at other people's holiday decorations?&lt;/span&gt; No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;11. When you see a heavily decorated house do you think, 'oh that's lovely'? Or do you think, 'oh criminy, that looks like Christmas threw up all over their lawn'?&lt;/span&gt; I think, "Is this a good use of electricity?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12. Are you counting the days to Christmas with excited anticipation or dread?&lt;/span&gt; Anticipation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13. When was the last time you had your photo taken with Santa? Did you sit on his lap?&lt;/span&gt; 1966. Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14. Do you make a Christmas list for your spouse or significant other or do you rely on them to pick your gift(s) without a clue from you? &lt;/span&gt;Since my "spouse or significant other" is imaginary and lives in my mind, he knows exactly what I want without being told.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15. When do you put up your tree? &lt;/span&gt;When I have a tree,  I put it up over Thanksgiving weekend. Alas, this year I never quite got around to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;16. Real or fake?&lt;/span&gt; Fake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;17. When do you take your tree down? &lt;/span&gt;As soon as I return from Key West in the New Year (if I put up a tree to take down, that is)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;18. Do you shop the day after Christmas sales?&lt;/span&gt; What do you shop for? No. I used to run out to stock up on next year's wrapping paper, but I find time is not imperative for this. You can easily find it for days and days after Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;19. Is your work/office having a holiday party this year? Will you attend?&lt;/span&gt; Yes. No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;20. Do you have your New Year's Eve Plans set yet? &lt;/span&gt;No specific plans that I'm aware of yet. I'm going to be in the Keys, but don't know if we're going out to dinner, eating in, or attending a party. My friends down there make the plans for me and I merrily roll along with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To play along yourself, click &lt;a href="http://sundaystealing.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-8136881190215145580?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8136881190215145580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=8136881190215145580' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/8136881190215145580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/8136881190215145580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/sunday-stealing.html' title='Sunday Stealing'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy2wbnsR9RI/AAAAAAAAGNM/V-uUQKDoCzY/s72-c/SundayStealing.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-3398834133736179364</id><published>2009-12-19T22:06:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T22:20:57.328-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='charity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Books'/><title type='text'>The first snow fall</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy2lfyVInXI/AAAAAAAAGM8/5PnwUp2-12c/s1600-h/snowflakes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy2lfyVInXI/AAAAAAAAGM8/5PnwUp2-12c/s200/snowflakes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417167892301520242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Let's see now ... what did I do with this Saturday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got up early this morning and filled another bag for Goodwill. That's three donations this month. This morning's included 4 pair of slacks that I decided I wouldn't wear even if I lost the dress size required to fit into them. Honestly, it was as though Clinton and Stacy were in the room with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to Petco and bought my last sack of kibble for the year ... for the decade! Got my final haircut for the year (for the decade) and collapsed onto the sofa. This evening I watched a little &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wizard of Oz&lt;/span&gt; -- always good for the soul -- and finally finished the Lisa Scottoline novel I've been working on for weeks and weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all made prettier by the first snowfall. I don't think it stuck, but it was fun to be out in it. So much gentler and quieter than rain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-3398834133736179364?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3398834133736179364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=3398834133736179364' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3398834133736179364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3398834133736179364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/first-snow-fall.html' title='The first snow fall'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Sy2lfyVInXI/AAAAAAAAGM8/5PnwUp2-12c/s72-c/snowflakes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-6340194044266265235</id><published>2009-12-19T00:39:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T01:09:02.664-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saturday 9'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='meme'/><title type='text'>Saturday 9</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Syx4fa2YEyI/AAAAAAAAGMo/udfUgJ3YLHI/s1600-h/sat9logo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 62px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Syx4fa2YEyI/AAAAAAAAGMo/udfUgJ3YLHI/s200/sat9logo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416836932998533922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://samanthasaturday9.blogspot.com/"&gt;Saturday 9: White Christmas&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1. If you live where you get winter weather, do you prefer your Christmas to be white? If you never see snow, do you wish for it?&lt;/span&gt; Yes. I love a White Christmas. (It's those White Easters here in Chicago that can get on my nerves.) I especially love it when it's snowing at 12:01 AM on Christmas morning when I'm walking home from the candlelight service at church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2. How many holiday cards did you receive from people you hadn't sent cards to, after the "mailing deadline?" Did you send a card anyway? &lt;/span&gt;So far, just one. I mailed a card to my Cousin Kathy and her family this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;3. When the clock strikes Midnight on New Year's, will you be at home, at a party, or somewhere else? &lt;/span&gt;I know I'm going to be in Key West, wrapped up snug as a bug in a rug in the love of my friend, Edgardo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;4. Have you ever taken the keys and driven home a friend that you felt was too drunk to drive? If not, do you think you would attempt to if that situation ever arose?&lt;/span&gt; No. I don't drive. Though I'd be happy to put us both in a cab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;5. Tell us about a gift that you either bought or made for someone else that you wanted for yourself! &lt;/span&gt;Nothing comes to mind. Though earlier this week and I went to Border's to pick up toys for a toy drive and left with the DVD of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That Girl, Season 5&lt;/span&gt;. Does that count?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;6. What chores do you have left for the holidays?&lt;/span&gt; I haven't wrapped a precious thing yet. And I want to go through my den one more time and put things aside for Goodwill. I must part with the old to make room for the new!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;7. If you could buy one gift for yourself where money was not an obstacle, what would it be?&lt;/span&gt; A portable electric generator. I know, I know ... even my dreams are glamorous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;8. What is one of your family’s favorite holiday traditions? &lt;/span&gt;Going around the horn, opening our gifts one at a time at my mom's house on Christmas Eve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;9. If you could give a fellow blogger a holiday gift, which would it be and what would you give them?&lt;/span&gt; I'd give &lt;a href="http://snarkypants.com/"&gt;Miss SnarkyPants&lt;/a&gt; her favorite most "Cookie." (Nudge, nudge; wink, wink.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-6340194044266265235?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/6340194044266265235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=6340194044266265235' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6340194044266265235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/6340194044266265235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/saturday-9.html' title='Saturday 9'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Syx4fa2YEyI/AAAAAAAAGMo/udfUgJ3YLHI/s72-c/sat9logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-8403226061689615247</id><published>2009-12-18T23:43:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T08:39:00.231-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Depression'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='charity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><title type='text'>Singin' the Holiday Blues</title><content type='html'>I'm troubled today. So many things are bothering me and I can't shake them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The tree at Whole Foods is decorated with little hearts from the kids at the village children's home.&lt;/span&gt; Some kids live at the home 24/7, waiting for appropriate foster homes or for their parents to get it together enough to take them back. Others are there because their parents are taking advantage of the sliding scale daycare. Anyway, each heart has a kids' name, age, and Wish List items. Since the children's home is, literally, next door, I always participate by taking an ornament and fulfilling a Christmas wish. Many of the kids ask for gift cards, just as many want expensive items, like video games. But some of them really tug at the heartstrings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like Zoe. She's 4, and her only Wish List item was a winter coat. How sad is that! So I went to Old Navy and picked up a little pink coat for her, plus a pair of Dora the Explorer sunglasses, so that she'll feel styling this Christmas. I dropped the gift off at Whole Foods and checked out the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the hearts are gone, which is a good thing. But what about the kids whose h&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Syxz48iZefI/AAAAAAAAGMg/gQaOJwoo9xw/s1600-h/Elf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Syxz48iZefI/AAAAAAAAGMg/gQaOJwoo9xw/s200/Elf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416831873980135922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;earts are left? Do they simply not get anything at the party next week when the gifts are distributed? I couldn't bear it. So I took another one. Jeremy. He wants is gym shoes. Unfortunately he wears 11 1/2 and I couldn't find shoes in that size. So I got him sweats (his other sizes were listed on the ornament, too) and a minature picture book -- smaller than a playing card, it features Rudolph, Clarice, Hermie, et al.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dropped Jeremy's gift off at Whole Foods and on the way out I picked up Neil's heart. He's 8 and only asked for one thing -- pajamas. Oh, break my heart! So I got him the sale pajamas from Old Navy and a long-sleeved Spiderman t-shirt. And a Disney tie-in book based on their 3-D &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Christmas Carol,&lt;/span&gt; which has a very scary Marley Ghost on the cover. I know little boys like gory creepy things, as long as they're not &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;too&lt;/span&gt; gory or creepy. I will drop Neil's gift off Saturday or Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to stop doing this. It doesn't make me happy, it makes me ever-more sad because I realize how bottomless the need is, and how limited my resources are -- or should be. I mean, I really can't afford to keep doing this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what about the kids whose hearts aren't chosen? Will they be mad or sad or confused at the children's home Christmas party when the gifts are distributed? I'm sure the staff is prepared for this, but still, this situation forcefully reminds me that many people won't have a Merry Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And I almost wish my best friend hadn't come in last week, because now I miss him so much.&lt;/span&gt; Plus, I learned something disturbing. Regular readers know he often just slides under the radar and goes incommunicado. The other night we had a heart-to-heart talk about this, and the reason really saddened me. His wife feels we are "inappropriate," and, in his words, she "wonders why I tell you things and not her." So he takes care not to call me when she can hear and not to touch base with me every day, because she asked him not to. He loves her, she is his wife, and I agree that we have to respect her feelings. Here I am, fat and 50. (OK, 52.) It never occurred to me that I would really be making a beautiful 42 year old uncomfortable. But I am. I realize this is serious and important. It's his &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;marriage&lt;/span&gt; -- and I have no place in it. But this all makes me so sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right now I'm not feeling so holly-jolly about this Christmas. And damn, I wish Cubs baseball was year-round.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-8403226061689615247?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/8403226061689615247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=8403226061689615247' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/8403226061689615247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/8403226061689615247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/singin-holiday-blues.html' title='Singin&apos; the Holiday Blues'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/Syxz48iZefI/AAAAAAAAGMg/gQaOJwoo9xw/s72-c/Elf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27448101.post-3391310922882286815</id><published>2009-12-18T22:01:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T22:06:11.451-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><title type='text'>I wonder why ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SyxQ9660hAI/AAAAAAAAGMY/uDjgGuuV7gE/s1600-h/ad_005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SyxQ9660hAI/AAAAAAAAGMY/uDjgGuuV7gE/s400/ad_005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416793476538074114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ashton Kutcher is more attractive and more interesting in a 30 or 60 second Nikon commrcial than he's been in any movie so far.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/27448101-3391310922882286815?l=onegalsmusings.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/feeds/3391310922882286815/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=27448101&amp;postID=3391310922882286815' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3391310922882286815'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/27448101/posts/default/3391310922882286815'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://onegalsmusings.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-wonder-why.html' title='I wonder why ...'/><author><name>The Gal Herself</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02566779726191649848</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17714300474283788716'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xrenmxUKyTo/SyxQ9660hAI/AAAAAAAAGMY/uDjgGuuV7gE/s72-c/ad_005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry></feed>