Grr. Argh.

Because I don't mention this often enough: I really, really hate bureaucracy.

If anyone has been wondering what to get me for Christmas, the answer is food*.



This post has been brought to you by the people who repeatedly tell me there is no need to come into their office until I get a letter, then send me a letter saying I get no more food stamps because I didn't go into their office.**

I wonder what movies the dep't of social services is showing in their lobby this December.



* Decent medical care would also be a lovely gift, but food is much easier to find.***

** And no, based on past experience, this was not unexpected (that's why I'd been calling the office in the first place). Yet this stuff still manages to be simultaneously infuriating and discouraging after all these years.

*** Other good gifts would be electricity and phone service. Yeah. Those are generally good things.****

**** Footnotes are addictive.

In other news

Yesterday I did in fact manage to get some useful things done, though not nearly as much as I'd wanted to. Too much of what I wanted to do required people to answer their office telephones, you see (no, not the folks at social services, whom I didn't bother to call on a Friday). At least I got out into the glorious (cold) weather. Running errands I'd been too tired to deal with earlier in the week, I managed to walk about 3.75 miles, or so the Gmaps Pedometer says. Went to bed earlyish.

Woke up this morning even earlier than I had planned with a sudden urge to go down to the kitchen and make a mini-batch of cranberry-blackberry sauce with added orange. Hours later, the kitchen still smelled of fruit and wildflower honey. Now after lunch the downstairs smells more like salsa.

I've got some library books to return today and am wondering what to replace them with. A couple months ago I thought it was about time for a re-reading of Charles Williams' Descent Into Hell, but I listened to the siren song of other genres and never got around to the rereading. With all the Lewis fervor lately, maybe it's time for me to immerse myself in the Inklings for a while. I've got 3 of Williams' novels here as well as a subset of my CSL books, but I know the library has more Lewis I could check out, as well as honorary Inkling Dorothy L. Sayers. Hmm. Must think about this some more.

One book I don't need to return yet is full of toy photographs, modern American toys from 1930-1980. It's somewhat embarrassing to realize that I don't actually know which of the toys familiar to me were ones I had, which were ones I played with in preschool or at friends' houses, and which were toys my grandparents kept in their sunroom to amuse visitors of my generation. It is fun to sit and stare and try to remember what it felt like to play with the toys, though.

Speaking of embarrassing things from childhood, daisydumont asked who people used to be crazy about, and I had to admit to a 2nd- or 3rd-grade love of Shaun Cassidy. I had a poster of both Hardy Boys in my bedroom, along with posters of Erik Estrada and Wonder Woman. Now that I'm older, I'd kinda like to have a poster of this bit of House Photoshipping. Okay, there are really much better photos available of the actors, but I do appreciate the photoship work.

More from the youthful embarrassments aisle: Banned cartoons, anyone?

And just plain embarrassing for somebody who isn't me: Angels We Have Heard Are High (from the person who brought you The Cavalcade of Bad Nativities everyone seems to be linking to).

There have been Christmas songs rampaging through my brain for days and I still enjoy them. This is unlike me and is probably a sign of impending doom.

In the meadow we can build a snowman
And pretend that he is Alton Brown
He'll say, "Are you cooking?"
We'll say, "No, man
But you can show us how while you're in town."