Good: Even though the winter in the Czech Republic stretches on far longer than I would like (and it’s only November), one thing that I love about living here is the Christmas markets. The markets in the Old Town Square will not be up until Saturday, but there’s one set up in a square a few blocks from my work.

Today, after lunch with a few of my coworkers, we walked through that market and stopped for some hot, spiced wine. I did not have a cup, but I did appreciate the idea of it. There we were, toddling back to work 30 minutes later than our allotted hour and running a bit late because we decided to have a glass of alcohol. And that’s perfectly normal. Some days I really appreciate living somewhere so incredibly laid back.

Bad: I woke up this morning barely able to open my eyes because they were so swollen and puffy from crying last night. Chris and I had a terrible argument, and I sobbed. I think that he may have been extremely irritable because he is having a LOT of problems with his computers and network, but he said some things to me that were really quite hurtful.

At the heart of everything we discussed seems to be the issue that he really does not like that I am depressed. He thinks that I have a great life and should be happy with everything that I have—including him. He has stressed on more than one occasion that he is extremely picky so I should feel lucky that he chose me. Evidently, I don’t seem thrilled enough that he, who could have any woman he wanted, has his heart set on me. Point taken, I guess, that he doesn’t feel appreciated.

But still there’s the depression issue. He told me that he doesn’t believe in depression. He eventually amended this to say that he does believe in its existence but he thinks it’s over diagnosed and lazily treated with medication. I somewhat agree with that, but he spent a large amount of time telling me that I should just be happy. As though, I can just smile and the sickness will magically go away.

I was lying in bed while he was saying this and feeling a dull pain in my stomach from trying to suppress the crying. It reminded me of what Dirk said to me a couple of months ago. Or what my parents used to say to me ten years ago—my mom not understanding how someone can just feel empty and my dad wishing desperately for me to be normal.

In fact, Chris even said that last night. “Be normal,” he said. “Be a normal human being.” And he told me that people like him because he’s a happy person and they would like me too if I were happy.

This argument began because we were talking on the phone and I wasn’t answering him fast enough. I also wasn’t talkative enough. I keep trying to tell him that I am a quiet person and, yes, sometimes I get sad. If he finds that frustrating or boring or some other unpleasant thing, then it doesn’t bode well for us but he insists that he likes me so much and he thinks that being critical towards me is treating me like an adult and that it might also inspire me to improve myself. He doesn’t think that anyone deserves to be loved for what they are. He thinks that people should always be working on themselves.

I have mixed feelings about a lot of this. I think it’s great to aspire to be a better person and to work towards a goal, but I don’t understand what he’s trying to accomplish with me. Does he think he can bully me into being a better person? Does he look at my weak personality and think I could be easily molded?

Also, I don’t like that he thinks my depression could be so easily remedied and that he seems to have no tolerance for it. The only saving grace here may be that he was really damn irritated by his computer and network problems and not by me and that he was saying a lot of things that he regrets. Otherwise, it seems an unwise decision to enter into a long-term relationship with someone who doesn’t understand some of the most integral parts of me. I feel blindsided by his thoughts on depression. I wonder what else he hasn’t told me.

After a five-hour train ride last night, I am back from nine days in Vienna. That was nine days spent in close proximity with Chris, living in his apartment. Aside from two nights out--one at a concert during which I met two of his brothers and his parents and the other at his best friend's birthday party--our time was entirely one-on-one.

And it went very well indeed. He is incredibly easy to live with, because living with him is almost identical to living with myself. This is not to say that our personalities are the same or that dating him is in any way like it would be to date myself (actually, we're quite different in these things, as he is extremely extroverted and I'm definitely an introvert), but our habits are remarkably similar.

Obviously there's good and bad to this, but his actions are so easy for me to understand and I quite like that.

We are now at an interesting point in our relationship where the excessive amount of time we've spent together makes it feel like we are much closer than the 5-6 weeks we've been dating would imply. There's been no serious "L" word talk, although he keeps using it, and I think it's partly to test my reaction to it and partly because it is natural to say "Oh my God, I love you!" when someone does something that you think is awesome and not actually mean that you love that person.

But he did say, "I love my girlfriend," and it neither felt like a test nor hyperbole. Of course, this has yet to be important but it does feel like those words are missing after being so intimate and close with him.

Other things: In front of his parents, he invited me to spend Christmas with his family, but I only smiled because I think it's important for them to make that decision together, without me. I don't want to invade their holidays just because he was momentarily enthusiastic.

He later told me that all he wants for Christmas is to spend a few days with me. I know that sounds really cheesy now but it didn't feel that way. It felt very sweet and honest--like he just wants to squeak out a couple of days together and that's all.

We seemed to have a breakthrough around the 7th day. I forget if the "all I want for Christmas" conversation was included in that, but I had said something to him a couple of days before and he mulled it over and realized that it was the key to his letting his guard down. He continued to say that he wished I would stay--that my company would open an office in Vienna--and that I made him feel fulfilled and complete.

And it did not feel cheesy or manipulative.

To be honest, sometimes his enthusiasm about me feels contrived and I don't know if I'm being overly sensitive or not. I do feel a bit damaged after some of my more recent interactions, but, so far, I think it's okay for me to second guess.

Moving forward will look like this: he will come visit me in Prague for a weekend in two or three weeks, and I will go back to Vienna around the third weekend in November. I will begin learning German, which is, of course, for myself but also because it would be necessary if I ever moved to Vienna.

Now I know what you're thinking! Kate, it's only been 5-6 weeks and you're talking about moving to another city to be with him! Well, yes, but let's be clear: I have no interest in leaving my job for at least another year, which means I will live in Prague for another year--possibly until 2010. That means that he and I will have been together a lot longer than 5-6 weeks before something like that happens. However, my German skills would have to be fantastic to live in Austria, and so I will have to start now. If things don't work out between us, I've still learned another language and enabled myself to live in three of the coolest damn countries in Europe. I don't see the problem here.

My grandpa died yesterday. In the hospital of my hometown, where I am not. I didn't go home for Christmas; I stayed in Prague.

My entire family relayed the news to me over Skype. At first, I thought it was sweet that they were all there, crowding around the webcam. But then my Aunt Val, who was apparently chosen as messenger, told me.

And it just seemed completely surreal. I knew he wouldn't live much longer--he'd been having terrible health problems the last few years, stemming from a bad liver (stemming from a lifetime of fatty foods--not alcohol). Eventually it spread everywhere--causing fluid to build in his lungs and his kidneys to shut down.

His doctor told my mom and grandma yesterday morning that he would probably die that day, so they were both there when it happened, along with my aunt and my sister. All of his girls, except for me, of course.

I won't bother telling you how selfish I feel for not wanting to fly 12-14 hours each way or pay the thousand dollars to see my family for Christmas, especially when I knew--I knew--he wouldn't live to see another and that it was a gift for me to have the opportunity to see him once more. But I didn't go.

And now I'll never see him again.

I wish I could tell you beautiful things about what an amazing man he was, because he was perhaps the greatest, most admirable man in my life (he thought very highly of Leon, whose own greatness is the sole reason I add the "perhaps"). But I could never do him justice, so I won't try.

I will only say that he was a good man, and I loved him very much. I will miss him.

Today is day 24 without internet access in my home. O2, my lovely Czech internet provider, told me that my inability to receive proper service is due to my inability to speak proper Czech. Charming.

I am incredibly stressed out, which is why I'm posting. I'm not sure if it's due to the holidays or what, but I'm going to make a schedule. Perhaps I should apologize for doing it here, when no one cares to read this, but at least it's a post.

Today:

1. At Work:
    a. Finish press website analysis and email boss.
    b. Email Harpa a thank you.
    c. Finish U.S. publishing report.
    d. Compile list of questions pertaining to end of the year report/work on this, if time.

2. After Work:
    a. Meet Caroline, Jirka, and Lenka.
    b. Discuss with Jirka and Lenka my plans to move into Lenka's current flat and Jirka signing for me, because my new landlord won't speak English.
    a. If time remaining, go to IP Pavlova and buy teapot for Caroline.
    b. If time remaining, go to T-Mobile.
    c. If shops open still, attempt Christmas shopping.

Tomorrow:
3. Work:
    a. Monitoring.
    b. Write highlights report.
    c. Meet with boss about end of the year report/work on it, if time.

4. After Work:
    a. Avoid social interaction!
    b. Shop for Christmas!
    c. Wrap presents for Christmas!
    d. Finish all Christmas preparations!

Saturday:

5. Christmas shopping if not finished.
6. Gift Caroline.
7. Karaoke party.

Sunday:

8. Clean damn apartment in preparation for move.
9. Go to T-Mobile if haven't yet.
10. Call Dirk (?).

Monday:
11. After Work:
    a. Meeting about new lease?
    b. If meeting, send SMS to Kloss.

Rest of week:
12. Make plans for holiday trip.
13. Finish year end report at work.
14. Make sure my contract is good with Kloss for moving out.

Okay, I think that's enough for now. The problem is that this is Caroline's last weekend here before she leaves, and so I need to give her her Christmas present before she goes (after buying it, of course) and I'd like to spend time with her, but I have no time management skills so that even if I hang out with her for two hours on Saturday afternoon, all of a sudden, the entire day is gone and I haven't accomplished a damn thing. This is problematic.

So, addendum to tonight's plans: Make arrangements to see Caroline one last time before she leaves on Monday and that shall be it!

Is this really obsessive? This is the way my mind is always working. Thank God for Klonopin, which is kicking in right about now.

I took the internet's advice and gave my parents the bad news before Christmas. Actually, it wasn't a rational decision to let them cope before I arrived; I had become anxious to the point where I could no longer function as a normal human being. I felt that if I didn't tell them, I was going to explode from the pressure of holding in such a massive amount of hot air. (That's one of those metaphors that you should just read and not try to dissect.)

The Monday before Christmas, I called my mom and gaged her mood for a few minutes until I finally broke out this clever, diplomatic phrase: "What's the worst thing I could possibly tell you?"

Brilliant, Kate. Way to make Mt. Everest out of the Appalachians.

She responded, "That you're not coming home for Christmas."

"Really?" I said and tried to decide if her shortsightedness was a good thing.

After this, she reconsidered and began listing terrible things, some of which included: losing my job, quitting my job, getting a divorce, and having a terminal illness. "Well, which is it?" she asked.

I didn't answer. Somehow she decided that I had lost my job and began probing the whys and hows. But this wasn't it, and so I kept quiet, which did nothing to calm her nerves as she now considered that her youngest child might be homeless or dying.

When Leon began listening in some minutes later, she sounded angry and nearly hysterical. He calmed her down and told her that everything was fine, really. He told me, "Don't make her guess."

And I told her. And I cried and cried and cried, the most satisfying, freeing tears of my life. She told me that she was shocked but that she loves me and wants me to be happy. The following day, I had an email from her that was filled with wonderful, encouraging words and lots of smiley faces.

Unfortunately, my dad overheard the conversation and he wasn't as easygoing as my mom. He was somewhere between devastated and angry. And, although he treated me normally while I was home for Christmas, he left for work the day of my flight out of Quincy without saying goodbye (we drove by his work on the way to the airport and made him hug me anyway). He was very rude and condescending to me on the phone last night, as well, but that may not have had anything to do with me.

Still, I'd say they're both taking it well, in their own special ways.

The bad news that I polled you guys on last week is directed at my parents. I still haven't decided when I'm going to tell them, but I think it might happen during the holidays, the option that no one voted for. This is the first time that I'll see them in person and I think they would appreciate being told face to face and not over the phone.

Once they and some other close family and friends know, I'm sure I'll post about it here. I don't mean to dangle something juicy in front of you and not share, but I seriously doubt that any of you are wetting your pants in anticipation of Kate's Big News.

Anyway, tomorrow I get my stitches out, and on Tuesday, Leon's going to the dentist to see if he needs a root canal. He was moping around the apartment earlier after I saw him reading an article online that featured animated graphics of a little green monster jackhammering a tooth. His teeth have been really sore the past few days, and he's worried that he's done some expensive damage. His only hope is that his recent pain is really the product of a sinus infection.

I don't know, but it hasn't exactly been a barrel of monkeys around here the past few days--me, anxious to finish Christmas shopping (but we did!), stressed about my bad news, recovering from the plague, and prepping myself for yet another visit to the doctor--and Leon, fretting about his dental health, still coughing from his bout with the plague, and worrying about his mother (who passed out and had to be taken to the hospital, but that deserves more than a parenthetical mention).

I've never really felt this ambivalent about Christmas before, and I kind of want it to be over so I can get on with the things that feel more pressing than holiday brunch with my ten closest relatives. But those things, much like my bad news, will have to wait.

I took the last two days off from work for what my PTO request will describe as "cold/flu/plague." I hope my boss finds that as amusing as I do.

I've done little more than sleep yesterday and today, and when I finish writing this, I'll probably do some more of that.

I lost two pounds this week and probably 99% of it was snot, but I'm not complaining. Well, maybe I'll complain a little because I missed Free Bagel Breakfast day at work yesterday and the Ask.com Christmas party tonight. Plus there were supposed to be camera crews at work today, presumably taping a story on the coolness of Ask.com and our new Ask City, and now I don't get to be on the news in one of those wide shots where they pan over a cube farm and talk about all of our hard work or something like that.

No bagels, no Christmas party, no TV time. Wah.

Leon is in a terrific mood, though. He has finished another fine semester at UC Berkeley, and he's kicking the cold/flu/plague bug that he so kindly gave to me.

The first of his Christmas/Hanukkah presents arrived today, and I went ahead and gave it to him, because it can't really sit in its USPS box for the next week and a half (although, isn't tomorrow the first night of Hanukkah? I guess I could've waited). Anyway, it's a venus fly trap. Leon was mesmerized by the one that our neighbors had sitting on the balcony railing outside their apartment, so I thought he might like one for himself. And did he? Currently, all signs point to yes.

But now, my Tussin and Snapple cocktail is making it incredibly difficult to form coherent sentences, so I will stop. I'll be spreading cold/flu/plague at the Ask.com offices tomorrow so maybe I'll make it on the news after all.

Leon commented this weekend that I've not been posting very much lately, and although I pointed out that I had three new entries last week, he said that this was hardly anything and I suppose he's right.

The truth is that I've been really stressed out lately and writing about all of the things that are stressing me out isn't particularly fun. I know that sometimes it can be cathartic but only listing things and not acting on them just makes me clench my fists and want to cry.

I'm busy at work in the moment, although this isn't a particularly big source of stress. I usually can pace myself well and get my projects done at work, so this isn't it. But it's everything else, I think. For starters (here comes the list), my sister wants to visit the first week of January but hasn't made any arrangements. Leon's brother will be here at the same time (if she comes) so planning activities that appeal to the both of them is difficult, to say the least. Plus, Leon didn't think the overlap sounded like a very good idea, but it's not exactly avoidable considering that she only has this time off from work.

Leon's brother will arrive on January 3rd, so I want to make sure that the apartment is tidy before we leave for Christmas break, because there won't be any time to clean when I get back. Well, Leon insists that we'd still have to clean the bathroom and vacuum and all that, but I should, like, put away my suitcase from Europe and sort through the massive pile of junk mail I'm accumulating in our computer room. Maybe I'll even remove all of my underpants from the light fixtures where I've been hanging them but that's a bit more iffy.

Christmas shopping is also stressing me out. Last year my family exchanged gift cards of the same value but for different stores, and I thought that this year we should do something more personal, albeit more challenging. So I suggested a white elephant gift exchange (and I mean white elephant in the sense that you pick a present out of a pile and not in the sense that it's a gag gift). Unfortunately, finding something that both my brother-in-law and my grandma would like is pretty much impossible. If I can find the point at which their vastly different interests intersect, then I just might have something, but I'm not sure that they ever intersect.

…Except for food. But even that is tricky because nearly everyone in my family is watching what they eat.

I went to a gigantic mall in San Francisco on Saturday to look for my white elephant gift(s) (I'll cover Leon's if I can) and found jack squat. Actually, I did make a purchase at Origins, but it was mostly bought out of desperation, a desire to leave the mall with something to show for all of my wasted time, and a need to prove that I can spend over $100 on bath products without flinching (being ignored in Bloomingdale's can make a person want to prove herself).

Unfortunately, it greatly exceeds the price point of the gift exchange and none of the men are going to want body butter for their one and only Christmas gift.

There are other things stressing me out in the moment as well--one thing in particular that might best be described as a need to get some facets of my life in order. And this is difficult, especially during the holiday season.

I don't really have anyone to talk to about this last point, and it's difficult. Yes, I see a therapist still, but she's more interested in playing Devil's Advocate than Best Friend. Caroline and I have been trying for two weeks to set up a time to talk on Skype, but her busy schedule + my busy schedule + a nine hour time difference = it ain't happened yet. And while I have other friends and family members who would willingly listen to me talk about my life, I'm not ready to open up to anyone else yet.

And so I clench my fists and feel like crying, because things feel unresolved, because things feel busy, because things are inconvenient. But I know that I'll feel better in the new year. That's all I have to go on at this point, and I just hope it's enough.

Last week, I emailed most of my family about our plans at Christmas, specifically, what I should buy as gifts. No one responded.

Yesterday, when I was getting my makeup done at the Clinique counter in Macy's, Leon called to tell me that there was some bad news and that I'd want to call my parents. The news was that my grandpa was in the hospital. Again.

I called my mom's cell phone and she was at the hospital. I asked her what had happened, and she hesitated, telling me that she didn't want to trouble me before I went to Europe. I pressed her, though, and she said, "I think when you are home at Christmas, you're going to be surprised by how different he is."

She continued, telling me that my grandpa has been very disoriented, very confused. She told me that he gets up at night and wanders around. Recently, my grandma woke up in the middle of the night and didn't know where he was. She eventually found him in the bathroom closet, unable to get out, and with cuts on his head. He was looking for aftershave.

"He's not Dad anymore," my mom said, and I knew what she meant. "Last night, it was so bad that I had to go over and get one of the kids." (You may remember that my parents and grandparents are collectively raising my sister's two children.)

I asked her if she thought he'd still be "around" (what a clever euphemism) at Christmas. She paused before saying, "I think so."

Leon and I talked when I got home from Macy's. We talked about my grandpa, about my parents, about his mom and her cancer. We talked about his uncle's girlfriend who just died and we talked about the fate of my niece and nephew.

"We're lucky," I said, "that we don't have to deal with these things or worry about these things. We're so wrapped up in our own world."

And I thought about my Christmas present inquiry and how I was getting my makeup done when I received the call. I even thought about how I called my mom on Saturday evening, talking to her mere hours before she would have to go help her mother corral two small children and her disoriented father.

We're very lucky, Leon and I. We're still young, and being in California removes us from all of the problems that our families face every day. With the holidays coming, though, we're going to have a nice hard look at reality.

I enjoyed it when lostarcadia posted what she was buying for people, so I thought I'd do the same--complete with links!

I'm a little more than halfway through with my Christmas shopping. So far, I have purchased:

For Leon, a 20 GB ipod. This is not what I originally planned on buying him. Instead, he was getting Bose noise-canceling headphones, but I couldn't find them. Something tells me this is way better.

For Leon, a polo shirt from Urban Outfitters. I'm not sure if that's the same one but it's similar. The fabric is incredibly soft, and it looks really cute on him.

For my mom, two pairs of earrings from the Hand & Mind Gallery. (They don't appear to have a website, but they are located in Emeryville.)

My mom has also requested Elizabeth Taylor's Passion, which I have been unable to locate for sale by itself (until now). I'd rather use a recognizable retailer, however.

For my dad, a UC Berkeley sweatshirt. You should've seen all the Wash U paraphernalia he had. He really gets into that stuff.

For my dad, the soundtrack to the new Phantom of the Opera movie, because the man loves himself some musical theater. It's awfully atypical, but music was the only activity he was allowed to participate in when he was young--why am I defending this? I did just realize that I bought a highlights version instead of the full version, so I'll probably be taking that back and replacing it.

For my grandparents, a dreamcatcher ornament, because my aunt got them into that whole deal. Otherwise, they're hard to shop for and will probably be getting some type of Blockbuster gift certificate if I don't have a surge of inspiration between now and the 24th.

For my niece Mattie, this outfit from Gymboree, minus the sweater, since they didn't have it in her size. She does get the cute barrettes, though.

For Mattie, some springy shirts and shorts from Old Navy that are no longer on the site.

For Mattie, a toy. I'm leaning toward a Care Bear, even though I told myself that I would only get her educational toys. I couldn't find an educational toy that wasn't exactly like something she already has.

For Mattie, Toni Morrison's children's book. So it's not all toys and clothes.

For my brother-in-law Jeremiah, a portable CD player. It pained Leon to buy a CD player that didn't also play MP3s, but Jeremiah didn't ask for it and I knew that feature would never be used, so we saved a little dough.

He has also asked for Ghost Recon, which is cheap, but we'll see how that goes.

Damn, this is long. My sister and aunt are still left as far as family goes, but I'll stop here. Oy, Christmas.

One of my Christmas presents was a membership to Curves, the gym I tried out with Caroline last fall. I would've joined then, but it wasn't in my budget. Now it is.

Even so, our Christmas celebration was slightly depressing, as I watched Sara open packages containing a DVD player, a stereo, and countless toys for Matteson. I made eye contact with my mom and said quietly, "Man, Sara has a lot of presents," which she rightly took as a hint that maybe gifts weren't so equally divided.

"Gym membership," she answered, and I sadly nodded. It didn't seem fair that I wanted something for personal improvement while my sister was racking up a home entertainment system. I asked for it, and still it depressed me.

Yesterday I was down and barely left bed. I probably slept at least eighteen hours. I told Leon that I wanted my mommy and wasn't being the slightest bit ironic. I felt lonely, depressed, and far from where I wanted to be--some ambiguous, successful future. For the most part, I slept it off.

I should call Curves and go work out. I'll feel better--less like a blob and more like a human being. Yet as I look toward my last semester, a hopeless job market, and a sizable weight-loss goal, I feel like I'm looking up a very large hill.

It's officially reading week, that glorious time of the semester between classes and exams. In the true spirit of a day off, I woke up today some time after 3 PM.

I then proceeded to eat Spaghetti-Os straight from the can and drink a glass of orange juice. During this time, I read my friends list and lost a game of Yahoo! hearts.

Next, my mom called and I pestered her about what to buy her and my dad for Christmas. Both she and he have given me ideas and then taken them back, stating that they weren't so sure they really wanted/needed their original requests. My mom had even changed her first idea of some slacks for work to a new comforter, only to say later that she doesn't trust anyone to pick out something that she would like. Oddly enough, her next idea was another decorative item.

After talking to her, I wrote my review of the Repertory Theater's production of "Ten Little Indians." This review was influenced, on some level, by my classmates who hated the play. I have to admit that it paled in comparison to my memory of a film adaptation I saw in the 80s. I wrote a respectful but somewhat negative critique.

Next I cleaned out the guinea pig's cage, fed and watered him, and tried to pet him as he scurried away. I had to vacuum up the bits of bedding that I left all over the carpet.

Now, I'm making some tea and thinking that, gosh, it's been a full day. It must be about time to hit the hay.

I am currently reading Naked by David Sedaris and just finished a story entitled "c.o.g." in which Sedaris describes his brief residence in a trailer. Defensive of the implications of living in a trailer, he writes, "People who lived in trailers called the police to break up violent family fights." He is eager to disassociate himself from the trailer park crowd, but all I can think is "My God! That's my family!"

Only once before can I say that I've given serious thought to being white trash. It was roughly two years ago, and I had just finished the fall semester of my sophomore year. Leon came to visit my family for a few days before flying home to Tennessee for the majority of his winter break.

My grandparents picked us up on campus and drove us home, and we could see the Christmas lights on my house from the interstate. I especially remember the look of horror on my Jewish boyfriend's face when he took notice of the illuminated, neon baby Jesus. I think the only thing he ever said to my parents was some form of, "Boy, you guys really like to decorate for Christmas, huh?" We had to clear a path for him to walk from the backdoor, past Santa's workshop and the Snow Village, to his pleasantly plain guest room.

That night, as he and I were lying on the futon we shared as a bed, I asked him what he thought of the Christmas decorations and my family that thought it necessary to hang shining stars upon, not just the highest, but every freakin' bough.

"It's a bit much," he said.

"I know."

"And what's with the glowing nativity?"

"My mom hates it too, and so do I. I don't understand the need for fluorescent colors. Couldn't he have purchased a white one? The store actually had white ones, but my dad thought the Virgin Mary looked better in hot pink."

"I'm sorry."

"What does that mean? You think we're cheap, don't you? That we're white trash?"

"I never said that."

"Oh my God. We're white trash!" And I was faced with a discovery that I had never allowed myself to make.

This past Thanksgiving, the police came to my grandparents' house, partially because my sister's boyfriend (or, better yet, my sister's baby's daddy) stole from her but also partially to break up the huge fight that was ensuing. No one was violent, and the fight had more to do with my sister and her boyfriend than anyone else. Even so, the police were called to combat my family's argument.

Even if this doesn't make me white trash, I certainly won't be joining any country clubs soon either. Sometimes I think that I float on a cloud that is my college world, in which my friends want to treat me to facials and get coinciding massages. In this world, I daydream about Leon's impending marriage proposal to be staged at the classiest restaurant that he and I can reasonably afford.

Then I go home and watch the beginnings of a potential custody battle over my niece, while my mom and I play Charlie's Angels in an attempt to catch my sister's loser of a boyfriend as he breaks one of the twenty regulations of his probation. Then I think, I might as well just grow a mullet, crack open a Schlitz, and be done with it all.

Yea for eggnog at the grocery store! I can now actually taste Christmas.

I also bought a bunch of bows and another roll of wrapping paper. I've had to resist wrapping presents since July. In a couple of weeks, it'll be perfectly acceptable.