Christmas

Every year, my plan is to get all of the holiday activities finished early so I can sit back and actually be present in the moment for Christmas week. Every year I fail, so it has actually become my quest to simply fail less than in previous years. I was doing very well this year until I got sick, but it helped that my daughter was here with a Christmas fire in her belly after two holidays spent abroad.

This is how this year stacked up:

Avoid malls after mid-November: I actually exceeded my goal here and did not set foot in a mall after the first week in November. That one was easy since that last time it was a little scary how people kept trying to spray fragrance on me and examine my hands for dry skin all over the mall.

Buy 4 pounds of butter, or cause 4 pounds of butter to be bought: Check.

Buy fifth pound of butter after an unfortunate accident involving glass in the cookie dough.

Make English Toffee--this year we were blessed with the spontaneous manifestation of the miraculous toffee parakeet (see photo). We may be putting it on EBay, so stay tuned.

Pick out a Christmas tree from Dean Mueller's front yard and stash it in the garage until my daughter, the Christmas slave, (she prefers elf) was home home to decorate it. Yes.

Get all presents wrapped and mailed on time. Sorry Mark.

Finish all knitting projects. Almost. It is difficult when pairs are involved. The hat was done, the scarf was done, but only 1.5 socks, and 1.8 slippers were finished.

Make and eat several really large meals in the days leading up to Christmas. (Ring in the New Year with leftovers, and more leftovers.) Despite well-meaning advice to go for restaurant take out, once the fridge was full, there was no choice but to empty it.

Play games with the family. This year it was bridge, food trivia, and Rock Band 2. We could have played more of all of them, but the need for sleep kept interfering.

Avoid seeing commercials where couples give each other a Lexus with a big bow on the roof and it is a surprise. Especially the version where the small child is in on it. First of all, this woman has emptied the family bank account or taken out a very large loan and her husband is oblivious. Then she tells the kid what she's up to and he apparently doesn't spill the beans to Dad five minutes later. I succeeded for the most part, but I am clearly still bearing the scars of having been infuriatated during previous years.

Listen to just nice Christmas music and nothing annoying. This is extemely challenging and remains a goal for next year.

Get and give presents that can be folded into the household possessions within 24 hours. I need help with the edibles this year. Chocolate anyone?

The ultimate goal, of course, is to make the holiday less commercial and more fun. The very best part his year was having both the kids at home...second best was probably the butter.

Contagion

I have had a flu shot for the past eleven years and it has been at least that long since I have been really sick. I was starting to feel complacent and apparently this may have caused my biological guard to drop. Whether it was that, or the possibility that the flu shot manufacturers missed the slow boat from China this year, I am here to tell you, there is some nasty stuff going around. Should you be so unlucky, here is a bit of advice for getting through it at home, surrounded by your loved ones.

First of all, if your loved ones are surrounding you, make them wear surgical masks at all times. The holiday photos will be memorable. In case you are wondering why the patient wouldn't be the one wearing the mask, it is because you will be having enough trouble breathing without the extra interference.

It starts with a sneeze and sudden nose congestion, as if you had just been exposed to something that makes you allergic. At this point you have about 36 hours to complete your holiday preparations and lay in supplies before an alien takes up residence in one of your sinuses (yes, just one, but that is more than enough) and your nose starts to run.

Here is what you will need: chapstick, aspirin, or the equivalent, lots of Kleenex (I recommend the kind with lotion--this is no time to pinch pennies) and lots and lots of liquids. Don't worry about food--you won't want to eat. Nor should you, for reasons that become clear on day three. Charge up your phone--it is an excellent way to summon your caretakers from other parts of the house, though they may not fall for it a second time. Attire: Docker drawstring men's pajamas and a really old Tshirt are just the items you need to transition from day to evening, and straight into bed, if you aren't there already.

Forget reading anything more involved than Dick and Jane, catching up on correspondence. etc. You won't have the energy and your feeble attempts to accomplish anything will only make you feel worse. On day four I attempted a Humphrey Bogart movie, but the suspense regarding who killed Maria, and why, (and what was the deal with the cousin?) continued even after the final credits rolled. It was simply over my head. I had more success with CaddyShack, and watching it twice helped me pick up the subtle plot nuances that I missed the first time.

The good news is that by day six, you will once again be able to leave the house with a portable Kleenex supply small enough to fit in a purse or several pockets. You may even be able to operate heavy machinery, such as a car. One final note--to our friends who invited us for a lovely dinner on day two--if I had known I was going to get that sick I wouldn't have exposed you to me. Or at the very least, I would have brought surgical masks for everyone.

Chow Chow Chow

Today productivity was back up, but morale took a hit. Buddy got too hungry for his own good--or maybe it was a tranquilizer hangover--but either way he went after some food in one of the traps and ended his little adventure. One of the security guards spotted him last night and called Animal Services so that he didn't have to spend another night in the bitter cold.

We missed him today. No doggie drama to update, no big red dog to spot out the window, cruising through the parking lot. I actually heard someone suggest a visit to the animal shelter, just to say hey.

I'd like to think that the next time he escapes (and I'm sure he will) he'll head back our way. I think he had a pretty good time with the whole episode. I know we did.

Chow Chow

Buddy's story continues to fascinate three office buildings and significantly slow productivity. It appears that it is not true that the owners tried to lure him home, nor is the next rumor accurate: the owners are away and he escaped from "doggie daycare." Well, actually it turns out that the owner is away in a sense--he is in jail and Buddy escaped from a relative's house. This version I have from credible sources--our security personnel whose job it is to know these things and also to chitchat with the animal control folks all day long.

The other true facts are these: he has been on the loose since December 2nd, and one reason that he has eluded his captors for so long is that a group of animal lovers at one of the office buildings has been feeding him and provided a shelter of sorts. This seemed shortsighted when I heard about it, but I am beginning to wonder if Buddy would rather freeze to death than surrender, in which case they are prolonging his life.

Yesterday Buddy flaunted his foxy tail all over the upper parking lot until a small army of animal control cars staked out the area. Then he was nowhere. This morning we were updated at the quarterly all-staff meeting, so everyone knew the plan was to drug his food today and slow him down enough to catch him. I heard several people around me mutter "Run, Buddy run!" and I realized that this is a dog who is rapidly becoming some sort of folk hero.

I am also beginning to wonder if there isn't some sort of supernatural element to all this. Buddy ate his hot lunch laced with tranquilizers and, although he was a little disoriented, he still managed to recognize and elude the enemy with a dose on board that should have caused a serious nap at the very least. And then there are the cars--he seems to have some rudimentary reading skills and will not approach any of the vehicles emblazoned with "Animal Services." It is as if he has decided that he does not need any kind of "service"--not even from the attractive female Chow that was brought in yesterday for friendship and maybe more.

Buddy is smart, and he is wily, and he is rapidly running through every Animal Service trick in the book. Given the manpower invested so far, I would not be surprised to see the ultimate bait out in the parking lot tomorrow: a guy in a County blaze orange jumpsuit with cuffs around his ankles.

Chow

The woods around my office building are full of wildlife. I have see deer, rabbits, a fox, wild turkeys, and (you may recall) the area was even home to cougar for awhile. This week the local fauna was joined by a chow. When we originally got the email, it was termed a "stray" dog, but this is clearly not the case. This dog is a runaway.

Today he was out of the woods and in the employee parking lot. He is a beautiful dog with a fox-red coat and a tail to match. He will approach humans with a curious, friendly air as long as he is not too close and they pretty much ignore him. They were trying to ignore him today, but it was clear that many people felt uneasy about turning their backs on him while cleaning their cars in the parking lot. At about 2pm, the animal control guy showed up and tried to entice the dog into the back of his jeep. There ensued an OJ-like chase around the parking lot with the dog trotting briskly up and down the rows of cars and the animal control jeep in hot pursuit at five miles an hour. Very amusing to those of us watching the "Buddy" show. That is, apparently, his name.

We know this because his owners showed up a day or so ago and tried to get him to come home, but he would have nothing to do with them, preferring to fend for himself in the wild. Now teenage runaways--that's sad, but everyone knows that teenagers are volatile and unreasonable at the best of times. A dog, though, Man's Best Friend, that's just plain embarrassing. Especially a dog named "Buddy."

At this point the place is littered with traps and food in the hopes that Buddy will get hungry. After watching him outsmart the animal control guy, I think it is more likely that they'll end up with a fox, a raccoon, or maybe a carnivorous turkey in those traps.

Lots of possible outcomes here--I'll keep you posted.

Chilly

Almost no work got done today, between discussions of the impending storm, and plans for tomorrow, when we are getting possibly 12 inches of snow. This year is shaping up like last year, with snow every other day, beginning December 1st. The first reaction is weary. Already we (I use the term loosely) are tired of shoveling, but we need to also remember the beauty of this season: fresh snow in the moonlight (we don't really see the sun after daylight savings kicks in), the fresh scent of dry air at 10 degrees F, and the sparkling jewel that was my car in the parking lot tonight, encased in a quarter inch of ice.

All afternoon there was the nostalgic stream of school closings. My children used to tune in to the local radio stations, waiting (usually fruitlessly) for the Madison Schools to close. The few days this happened were legendary and wonderful; time home with walking errands only, all activities cancelled, the drama of major weather occupying every thought. Today at work, I could feel the yearning. If the office doesn't close tomorrow, there will be some 500 severely disappointed adults. We might have to all just call in sick.

Complexity

I was desperate and had only one place to turn. There I was, home alone, with the power to choose the evening's entertainment on television and I could not make it work. All three remotes with half-remembered successes from past TV viewings were not jelling into both a picture AND sound experience on our home entertainment center. So, I made the dreaded call. "Honey? You are forgiven for leaving home with all of the turkey and stuffing leftovers after Thanksgiving. I can't work the TV. Can you help?"

"Okay, Mom. Are you looking at all three remotes? Pick up the longer black one and look for the red button on the upper right that is labeled 'source.' Press it twice."

I did, and it worked. I was amazed at the fact that my son was able to visualize the remotes in a house he doesn't even live in anymore and diagnose the problem that quickly. I do feel a need to defend myself--I am not a complete moron, but every time I master the home entertainment center, the components change. Our most recent acquisition doesn't even HAVE buttons on it and required yet another remote to be added to the array.

It made me think about that age-old question. What is complexity? For me, it is three remotes with a total of 157 buttons and a differing pattern of button-pressing needed to watch a DVD, watch TV, play a CD, turn the speakers on in the kitchen, see a picture that corresponds with the sound, etc.

So what if we were to translate 157 buttons into a different idea? A party, for example, with 157 guests, a combination of friends and family with food, drink, mingling, etc.? I don't want to single out any one gender, but just for example, let's talk about men. Would a man be able to separate those he has met from those he has not? Distinguish between work related guests and personal friends (ooh, that was an embarrassing story that may get shared at the office!)? Will he know who is a daughter/niece and who is a trophy wife? Will he know not to launch into cute baby stories with the woman who is struggling with infertility? Will he tell that hilarious anecdote with unfortunately recognizable characters--"oh my God, Sandy, I didn't recognize you--didn't your hair used to be a different color?" You catch my drift.

Stop and consider--if we admit that complexity comes in many forms, let us contemplate that the same individual who could help me operate the TV over the phone was unable to negotiate the ethics making off with most of the turkey and all of the stuffing from the family refrigerator. This was apparently more complex than visualizing and understanding 157 buttons on three different remotes. Complexity and gender: dolls and trucks are only the tip of the iceberg.