Merry Christmas From All Of Us Here At PETA

I Curled, I Spritzed, I Chignoned - Julius Scissor

My brother arrives tonight, the first time all of the Fig Cookies have been together since last Christmas. TBF arrives at two in the morning Christmas Day. Hairdressers have it rough: it seems like TBF gets about five days off the entire year.

Three of those days off are going to be at New Year's when she's coming up to Burlington to visit! Ten and I are going to trick her into believing that Vermonters do hair cuts outside, even in the winter. Although, now that I think about it, having a shivering hairdresser might not yield the finest results. Also, President of the Safety Committee Number Ten might throw up a stink about the co-utilization of snowshoes and scissors.

This year, I will have seen TBF an unprecedented three times. Of course, two of those times will fall within the same week, albeit in different states. It would be much better for my grooming if we spread these visits out evenly throughout the year.

This morning I am going to breakfast with my parents. Then, I expect, I will sit down and read all day, as I've done the last two days.

Pictures Of My Life, Part IV

Enough said

Ten's house in snow

Ten in snow

Louisiana Lights

The first thing I did when I got home was take a run in shorts and a T-shirt. It's 74 degrees here. In my course through the neighborhood, I discovered who the real culprits behind global warming are: You should see some of the holiday displays in the front yards here. I plan to go around with a camera tonight and gather some evidence. I'll send it to Al Gore. Then he can arrive in his Ford Expedition and take care of some business.

I've started the seventh Harry Potter. It's making me so tense that I'm experiencing heart burn. Don't tell me how it ends. No, tell me. No, don't tell me. Tell me.

TBF comes to town sometime in the next five days. I'm not sure when, but I'll have some warning. As soon as she crosses the state line, Texas gives a sigh of relief and Louisiana gives a fearful shudder. I'm looking forward to our traditional (since high school) Christmas Night at the Movies. Does anyone have a film to recommend?

Christmas Is Coming, My Hand Is Getting Tired

I'm on vacation. Ahhh. This morning I celebrated by waking up, making a pot of coffee, and promptly beating Number Ten at Scrabble. Thank God!

We are getting about two feet of snow here today. I got to go snowshoeing for the first time this season. Now I am doing eight loads of laundry and responding to e-mail that has been in my inbox since September. In a little while I will help Ten address her holiday card envelopes. I don't know how I let her talk me into this; I suppose I was feeling a little sorry for her after her devastating loss this morning. Mark my words that this is the only Christmas season in which I will participate in such an activity.

I am heading to Louisiana on Wednesday morning. But, since I have a thirty-minute layover in D.C. and God-awful, terrible, bad luck with air travel, it'll probably be more like Thursday morning. All that time in the airport will give me a chance to craft an action plan called Operation Don't Let Medical School Make You Miserable, which I plan to put into effect after the new year.

Resolutions, anyone?

One Last Twitch

Yesterday my windshield wipers gave One Last Twitch and then died on me. While this may seem like a small inconvenience, in these muddy, snowy New Hampshire streets, broken wipers are "really dangerous." At least, that's what Ten told me when I told her I was planning to put off the repairs until the summer when I have more time. Anyway, I am going to bring T-Babe in to have his wiper motor replaced in South Burlington this weekend. It seems I am one of a select few who drive 100 miles to see a mechanic.

I can't belief that my life has gotten so boring that I'm blogging about my car repairs. Soon I will resort to Taking Stories From Other People's Lives And Pretending Like They're Mine. If you have any good ones, please send them to me. Be as descriptive as possible and include what I might have been feeling had I been in your (albeit, much smaller) shoes.

In other news, I think I am battling a Depressive Episode. Ten thinks it's the weather, or the stress of classes, or the longing for Christmas vacation. How to tell her that it's all because she has beaten me at Scrabble two weekends in a row? Why does she insist on making me miserable?