it felt like Christmastime

goodies on his sleigh

Ways I knew that the holidays were upon me:

• Feliz Navidad more than 100 times in the last two days. It has gone from amusing absurdity to annoying, as it always does, every year.
  
• My co-worker and I spent ten minutes arguing about Johnny Damon today. First, he tried to convince me I should be brooding about losing Damon to the Yankees. I countered with expressing my glee that the Yankees are now saddled with The Jesus, as I like to call him. Now I can dislike Damon without having to feel any guilt whatsoever.
  
• The pre-holiday OH SH*T is upon me. I have so much to do, and no way I am going to do it in time. The baking is the least of it. Worst friend on the planet title is quickly approaching a clinch.
  
• The number of people shorter than four feet currently circulating in my offices. Before you get all awww, how cute about it, you should know they were not elves. They were little children, who bear great tidings of influenza and other such fun gifts. Also, it's just jarring to see kids at my place of employment. I can no longer curse in peace.
  
• Even though it is not snowing in San Francisco, it has been raining. I like that. It provides the somber, introspective mood that is necessary for the holidays.

In other irrelevant news, I dreamt last night that I was playing professional baseball. In the dream, I am the first baseman. The pitcher throws a strike, but the umpire is spacing out and doesn't notice it. So, he calls a ball. Everyone gets upset, but I, inexplicably, throw my glove at him from first base. Everyone looks around- the mood is okay, we were pissed at that call, but who was the nut job who threw a glove at the umpire? So, I hide my hands behind my back instinctively. Everyone shrugs it off and play continues. Of course, now I'm stuck on first base with no glove. Sure enough, here comes a runner barreling towards me. And here comes a ball hurtling towards me. Miraculously, I catch the ball, but then I stand there like a moron. Everyone starts barking at me to tag first. But I'm suddenly so tired, and I just can't seem to bridge the distance. Finally, the pitcher barks at me, and I fall, thus tagging first. I woke up angry that I had wasted good R.E.M on this sort of nonsense. So, of course, I had to waste some waking minutes sharing it here too, for good measure.

Oh... and any guesses on the secret party ingredient in these brownies?