I am so looking forward to the Holiday Shut Down. Even if it means I don�t get paid and have to apply for unemployment. I just need the break. I want to work in my craft room and read books and wallow in the luxury of time. Which is why I spent a few selfish minutes being a spoiled brat when my Mom called last night to ask me if I could accompany my grandmother to the orthopedist on the Monday after Christmas. Then I said, of course, I would attend, as it only made sense. I feel horrible that she has to spend Christmas in a miserable place that smells like feces and is filled with people moaning and crying to be let out. I feel horrible that she has to spend one more day in that place, especially since they don�t seem to be doing anything to help her. She is now becoming depressed to the point that she doesn�t want to make the effort to participate in even the simplest tasks and if she doesn�t make progress her insurance will fail to cover her visit, moving her to the private pay ward until her money runs out (which will be soon) and then there�s paperwork to be filled out until she can become a permanent resident. She says she doesn�t want to be there, but the irony is that she�s the only one who can make it so she can leave. She doesn�t show me her depression. She spares me that, because to her I think I must still be eleven. But I catch glimpses of it before she knows I�m looking; shadows of my great-grandmother (her mother) who spent four years withering away insider he own mind.

To add to the festive holiday mood, I have a doctor�s appointment this afternoon to find out why in Hell I can�t seem to eat without my stomach fighting back. (Nope. Not pregnant. Not a chance.) And I�m not necessarily nauseous. It�s pain and GERD and acid reflux and cramping and some other things that get way into the TMI realm. I�m sure I�ll get to add the �purple pill� to my regimen, and I�m not too excited about that, considering how much medication I�m taking already. I�m also going to have to talk to her about my right knee, which has been giving me fits since I painted the dining room. (Up the ladder, swish, swish, down the ladder�) The worst part about this is the constant reminder that I�m aging and my body is failing me. It has every right to fail me, since I don�t care for it well, but it�s still depressing. It�s especially depressing in lieu of the whole Grandma situation. It�s easy to connect the dots and find myself in that exact same position one day. (Which, one would think, would make for lovely motivation to get me working out again, but, sadly, I manage to avoid the obvious connection time and time again.)

Oh, we had someone fired yesterday. Right in front of everyone. Nice. I know she was asking for it � quite blatantly, to be truthful � but I really liked her and don�t agree with the lousy politics surrounding her demise. In other words, she was let go for some of the same things others do on a daily basis. She�s also been doing the same thing for a year and getting away with it, so why should it suddenly become a problem? Here�s the answer: because they would tell the woman to do her job a certain way and she would continue to do it the same way she always had because she thought her way was better. That just pisses people off. I might bitch and complain about some new policy being implemented � especially if it�s stupid � but if I lose the argument I will comply. Not this lady, she�d just pretend it never happened. It�s really quiet here with her gone. People are nervous and introverted. I hate it. I�m glad I�m leaving early for the doctor�s.

On a lighter note, we had our Christmas with the Big Boy this week. After much discussion, he and the girl finally agreed on something we could all eat together. We feasted on grinders and chips before we opened our presents. This year we got The Girl her own stocking. I think she was pleased (it�s so hard to tell). She seemed to like her presents. There was nothing big; just a few girlie trinkets to satisfy the lack of pink in my life. I think we did better than last year (when I can�t even remember what the heck we bought her) and the year before (when I bought her a matching scarf, mittens, and sweater to drive home the point that she might not be so cold if she wore clothes). This year I looked for things she might actually enjoy. Oh, and the Big Boy was his usual self, completely grateful for every little thing, then asking for receipts so he could return the stuff that was wrong. (When will the Hubband realize he should take me shopping with him?) They�re not leaving until Friday night/Saturday morning, but I�m not sure if I�ll see them before they go, so we spent a lot of time just chatting until we flat ran out of things to talk about and went our separate ways.

The holiday rush has slowed for me a bit. I finished my cards last night and got through �G� into the mail this morning. I hope to finish the rest tonight, but I�m also going to spend some time with CWF, so we�ll see. With all the party hoopla, nobody seemed to notice we were running out of normal food. Hubband will be picking up bread and cereal for Boy on his way to/from his yearly gathering of his friends. It�s some guy thing, where they all meet up at the mall, do some shopping, and head to the sports bar for dinner and drinks. Considering that this same group was at our house for hours on Saturday and he will also be spending all of Sunday with them, I think it�s a little excessive, but that�s just me. I�ve got the doctor thing, then picking up dinner for Boy (again with the no food thing), then dishes and bed making and general house prettying to do.

I guess I�ve bored you enough with my whining and middle-America details. Later.