I've said many times that I love rainy, windy, stormy weather, and this weekend we've had that. I was fortunate enough to be behind the plate-glass windows at Atelier in Santana Row having a day of total self-indulgence during the worst of Saturday's weather. While I was having my hair cut and colored, having a facial and a manicure and getting my eyebrows waxed, and later, while I was playing with makeup colors I'd never have thought to wear, my poor husband was up on a ladder cleaning out the rain gutters, because they were overflowing.

We lost power, but since we weren't home for most of Saturday, we don't know for how long. I do know that traffic was scary in our part of town because all the traffic lights along Stevens Creek from Meridian to Winchester were out. Uncontrolled mall traffic. *Shudder.*

By the time we did get home, after driving through the storm-battered and unlit streets of Campbell hoping our favorite Chinese place would have power, and being bitterly disappointed, we were wet and tired, and not in the mood to drive all the way out to the Hayes Mansion for the party we'd been invited to.

And the dogs were freaking.

Zorro was a stray when we got him – we rescued him from the streets almost exactly four years ago, and he was drenched from being out in the rain, covered with fleas, and starving – and even now rain scares him. For days he's been hovering at my feet, and wearing a distressed expression, and that was before the suitcases for our impending vacation ever made it into the house.

Cleo, on the other hand, is a wuss dog. She barks, loudly, at anything she doesn't understand, as if deafening the threat will immobilize it. (If the threat is human, she'll then cower, and leak, but that's another issue.) We've tried every kind of training to break her of this, and nothing works. Still, even though she looked pathetic, there were elements of humor in seeing her cower from lightning flashes, or hearing her try to outbark the thunder.

But neither dog liked the howling wind, which sounded like a million angry owls descending on our house last night. And neither is going near the pool, usually the thing they run around all day, because the wind has made the water so choppy it looks like a water tank for a naval disaster film.

Yesterday, we spent the morning being completely lazy. (And I do mean completely, we finally stirred ourselves for showers and leaving the cozy confines of bed at about 1:30), and then did a marathon six-hour shopping trip – VallCo Mall (because there's always parking, and it's never crowded), Big Lots (where I can indulge my niece's love of all things Barbie for almost no money), and Barnes and Noble.

And today it's back to work, to finish out the pipeline, hopefully by Wednesday. Thursday the whole office is doing a foofy lunch, and Friday we're driving up to San Rafael to bribe the staff of one of the lenders we work with. I'm sitting here drinking mint tea and waiting for Fuzzy to get dressed, because I was up at seven despite going to bed at three, and thinking that storms are way more fun when you don't have to leave home.

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On an unrelated note, I'm seeing Nemesis in about an hour.

, whom I “know” solely from LJ reading, has posted an entry about loving everything, and while I did mention some things in a comment, I thought I would do my own entry.

1.) I love days like today, when it's rainy and blustery, and there are autumn leaves scattered everywhere, and the sound of cars on the pavement has that rainslicked cadence. I love the smell of the air, and the taste, and I love even more than when I get home I can make a fire and cuddle with the dogs, and just groove on not having to be out in the rain, unless I choose to be.

2.) I love trips to foofy salons (I'm spending much of tomorrow at one), where they don't merely wash your hair, but give you soothing tea, and play mellow music, and massage your scalp, and where, even if you're PMSing, and thinking of the eighty-three thousand things on your TO DO list that MUST be accomplished before you leave for Europe, there's still that peaceful sense of time belonging just to you, because sometimes it's good to be self indulgent.

3.) I love that when I'm feeling really icky I get virtual snugs and hugs, because they do make things better.

4.) I love hot bubblebaths where the water comes up to your ears. I love them more when I have a good mystery to read while I soak, and even more than that when Cleo-Dog is curled up on the bath mat in front of the space heater keeping me company the whole time. (Zorro never lingers in the bathroom. He doesn't like water.)

5.) I love Christmas, even though in my family it's not celebrated as a religious holiday, but more of a neutrally spiritual one. I love the lights, and the smells of cinnamon and nutmeg that I associate with this time of year. I love choosing presents for people, and even though they're currently still taunting me because I'm very very behind, I love sending Christmas cards.

6.) I love that I can sit here in the middle of my work day, and take a few minutes to write this without anyone hovering over me and wondering what I'm doing, or how many loans are going out tonight (answer: ten) or why I'm not on the phone.

7.) I love my husband, who helps with the laundry, and cleans up when the dogs leave “presents” in the house, and brings me flowers every time he goes grocery shopping, and spends six hours finding the perfect birthday card, and calls me from stores to make sure he picks the right brand/color/size/flavor/whatever of whatever-it-is.

And you. All of you. In some fashion, I love you all.

Confession #1.

I always used to say that the only music I absolutely couldn't stand was country, not because of the music itself, but because that nasal twang that so many country singers possess really grates on my nerves.

Lately, though, when flipping channels and winding up on the country station, I've found myself lingering, and realizing that if you can move beyond the twang, country's really very singable.

Especially if you have a voice that's best suited for belting, or torch songs.

Confession #2.
Sometimes, reading through the journals of the people on my friends list, or even just talking to them, it sends me into retreat mode because everyone else seems so damned cool, and I'm so disgustingly dull and ordinary.

Confession #3.
Sometimes, I like fruitcake.

what's your battle cry? |
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This isn't locked down to any particular group of people – there are only three people on my friends list, in fact, who have been restricted from reading it. I want to make one thing clear, though. Even though this starts with “I have a friend who…” I really am NOT talking about ME. It is a friend. One who posts to LJ, in fact.

I have a friend who hasn't worked since she married her now-husband five years ago. She seemed so happy when they married. Six months later, when she wanted to reaffirm their committment at a con for a fandom we were both sort of interested in, she asked me to help her write the ceremony…and I did.

She found online diaries long before I did. In fact, since she had copious amounts of time in which to play on the net, she would often IM me with funky/funny/cool/inspiring websites. So she started writing at OD, and got me hooked.

Her first OD was pretty fluffy, really, but then she started remembering things from her childhood, and started going deeper. And then she became afraid of what she was remembering, and stopped posting.

When she started posting again, it was darker. This was a woman who was obviously depressed. She admitted to having been molested by a teacher as a child, and said her parents had never believed her, and still don't.

Another lapse in posting, and then she came back, and said she was writing about stuff she didn't want her husband to know.

In the last few months, in her latest incarnation, she's written that her supposedly happy marriage was her calculated design to leave home, and that she never wanted to be any more than a friend to this man. And, more recently, she's written that he's abusing her, that her parents have seen her with bruises at family events, and that they've said, “You're better off with him then alone.”

I know…it sounds like a really bad novel.

And here is why I'm posting.
First, there's a part of me that really wants to help her, but when it's pointed out that she's home all day alone, with no one to stop her from calling the authorities, or calling for help, she makes excuses.

Second, because she has a history of hiding the truth, exaggerating things, etc, there's a part of me that can't help but wonder if she's making it all up.

A mutual friend of ours has been a good sounding board, and we go back and forth. Sure, it'd be easy to loan, or give, her the money to get out, but what if she's lying, or what if she isn't, but turns it over to him. I've spent enough time volunteering for crises centers that I know that even the most educated empowered abuse victims have trouble leaving their abusers.

And then, we've considered confronting the husband, but, we have no guarantee that he'd tell the truth. And, if SHE is, we could be doing more harm than good.

And then, there's a part of me that is angry with her, not for being a victim, but for being so picky about how she gets out. “Oh, I won't take help unless my family offers.” “Oh, I won't take money unless you give me enough to live on my own, because I don't want you to see me not make it.”

So, I'm alternately puzzled, confused, and angry, and feeling like a horrible friend for not doing something.

This was all very circular.
Sorry about that.

Courtesy of and

Dear Santa,

I have been a good girl.

It really wasn't my fault what happened at Maury's Christmas party. It was Cathy who spiked the punch with too much tequila. I can't help it if I drank seven glasses. It was so good—smelled and tasted just like wasabi.

I thought it was funny when I put Geoff's bustier on my head and danced the watusi on the papa-san chair while singing `Smooth'. I didn't mean to break Maury's calculator and don't know why Maury would sue me for wasting paper.

I don't remember calling Erik's wife a callous sheep—even though she looked like one with puce eye shadow and tangerine lipstick!

And when I threw up on Nicole's husband's earlobe, it was only because I ate too much of that rice pudding.

After all that fun, I admit I was a little tired. So I fell asleep on my way home and drove my tricycle through my neighbor's coat closet. I don't think that was any reason for my neighbor to call me a vicious mongoose and have me arrested for poisoning tadpoles!

So, Santa…here I sit in my jail cell on Christmas Eve, all well-coiffed and morose. And I'm really not to blame for any of this monstrous stuff. Please bring me what I want the most—bail money!

Sincerely and quietly yours,
Xenobia (Really a nice girl!)

P.S. It's only seventeen bucks!

http://www.wtv-zone.com/LadyBoheme/dearsanta.html

…but instead I've dug my old visor prism out of the depths of my desk drawer, so I can set it up for Fuzzy. I even found the minstrel modem that goes with it, and both are blinking on my desk.

Much as I like the sleekness of the Palm Tungsten, the Handspring PDA's are better when it comes to connectivity. There isn't a minstrel that works on Palms, as far as I can tell. And while there is a cable that connects to a cell phone, I hate that concept.

Still, it's not like I need to be able to have yahoo chat on a PDA. I'm not usually away from regular access. Even here at the house without our t1 installed, we've rigged internet connection sharing, and my at&t account is giving us impressive speeds (better than Earthlink, I'm afraid.)

We didn't do much this weekend, I was tired, and in a nesting mood, so we slept and read and watched movies. For the record, I liked the CGI in Reign of Fire but the movie itself seemed more like watching a badly constructed video game, and a waste of the talents of the cast. I quite enjoyed Glengarry GlenRoss, but when you consider that the cast included Jack Lemmon, Alan Arkin, Ed Harris, Al Pacino, and Kevin Spacey, can that be a surprise. I hadn't realized it was as old as it was however – the fact that these guys use pay phones and not cell phones really dates the movie. The third movie, one Fuzzy didn't watch any of, was Kissing Jessica Stein which was quirky and funny but the lead actress's voice was in that annoying high pitched “I've been stuck in academia too long” range that really grates on my nerves. Still, there are far worse things I could've watched, and it had some hilarious moments.

Last week I spilled an entire glass of water on my bedside table, and this week I couldn't find the Christmas cards I'd done, and managed to convince myself that I'd thrown them out when we were cleaning up my little flood. I went to Borders in Santana Row, partly to check it out (I'm in love with Santana Row, right now, and will be spending next Saturday at the Aveda/Altiera salon there, getting a cut and color and manicure before France), but mostly to add more Christmas cards to those I had left.

We didn't find any, so went to Barnes and Noble instead, where I was very strong, and only bought the cards I thought I needed and one book, Quentins, by Maeve Binchy. It's a quasi-sequel to Scarlet Feather and Tara Road, and yet it's also completely its own book.

Of course when I got home I realized that I'd zipped the completed cards into my dayplanner, and then I felt stupid. But I redid my list, and realized I needed the extras anyway.

Tomorrow: Work. In the meantime, I'm leafing through magazines trying to figure out WHAT to do with my hair. Fuzzy says I should leave it long, but men /always/ say that.

It's nearly three AM, and the blue christmas lights on the house are glimmering like a veil of stars outside the window. The dogs, having spent the entire night fighting over the last inch of Cleo's piece of ostritch bone, are curled on the ottoman, waiting to be told it's time for bed, which I'm going to do now.

Survey swiped from Phantastica at OpenDiary.

1.) COOKIE: Pfefferneusse, or those green leaf butter cookies with chocolate.

2.) CANDY: Peppermint sticks.

3.) MAIN COURSE: We made an amazing roast with fresh herbs rubbed all over it and roasted red potatoes, last year. Mmm. Beef.

4.) STORE: Cost Plus Imports, for their amazing glass ornaments, and general niftyness.

5.) COLOR OF OUTDOOR LIGHTS: For icicles, blue; for wrapping around tree trunks, white; for outlining windows, single strands of multicolored lights. And I detest blinking things.

6.) TYPE OF TREE: Faux. But real pine wreaths and garlands.

7.) COLOR LIGHTS ON TREE: Mix of pearl-shaped and teardrop-shaped crackled white lights, and multicolored twinklelights.

8.) TREE TOPPER: We have a very Celtic looking Santa Claus for the top of our tree, this year, but I grew up with a silver foil butterfly as the topper.

9.) ORNAMENTS or BALLS: Ornaments. Every single ornament on my tree was hand-picked either by me or for me, and has it's own story.

10.) GARLAND or TINSEL: Tinsel, but only sparingly, and never put on the tree til Christmas Eve. (Yeah, there's a story there, too.)

11.) HIDING PLACE FOR GIFTS: All over the place.

12.) BEST TOY YOU EVER GOT FOR CHRISTMAS: The year I was nine I got a very cool microscope, but that's not truly a toy. The year I was seven, my anti-Barbie mother caved in, and made doll clothes for a wedding party of NINE dolls. I'm told the echoes of her curses as she tried to make darts that small still linger in the walls…

13.) THING TO WEAR TO BED CHRISTMAS EVE: Oh, the traditional new nightgown for Christmas, of course.

14.) TIME YOU GOT UP CHRISTMAS MORNING AS A KID: Early. But I didn't leave my bedroom until eight or so. In my family the tradition is that Christmas stockings are left on the foot of the bed, to keep the kids busy until the adults roll out of bed.

15.) TIME YOU GOT UP CHRISTMAS MORNING LAST YEAR: Not so early. Nine-ish. My parents were visiting, and it was neat having coffee made for me, for a change.

16.) DO YOU ENJOY SENDING OUT CHRISTMAS CARDS: Yes. I love physical mail, even if it's a mere card.

17.) HOW DO YOU DISPLAY THE CARDS YOU RECEIVE? Generally, we cover the back of the front door with them.

18.) HOT CHOCOLATE, EGG NOG or APPLE CIDER: All, but never at the same time.

19.) ALCOHOLIC DRINK: Hot buttered rum.

20.) DO YOU HAVE A NATIVITY IN YOUR HOME? At my house? No. When my grandparents were alive, they did, and we'd get yelled at for playing with the baby Jesus.

21.) HOLIDAY SONG: Serious: “I'll Be Home for Christmas” makes me cry. Humorous: “Santa Baby.”

22.) HOLIDAY MOVIE: White Christmas or Miracle on 34th Street

23.) BEST HOLIDAY EPISODE OF A TV SHOW YOU EVER SAW: The “Lovers Walk” episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or any Christmas ep of M*A*S*H.

24.) HOLIDAY TV SPECIAL YOU EVER SAW: Does the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade count?

25.) DO YOU WRAP THE GIFTS YOU PUT IN A STOCKING: Of course. In fact, the stockings are my favorite part. It's a fun challenge to by things that MUST fit in a certain size-range.

26.) HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU FOUND OUT THERE WAS NO SANTA CLAUS? *blink* There isn't?
Seriously…I don't think I ever believed a real person was coming down the chimney, it's a seasonal game. In fact, I still get presents from “Santa” every year.

27.) HOW DID YOU FIND OUT? See above.

28.) HOW DID YOU TAKE THE NEWS? See above.

29.) DO YOU GO TO CHURCH ON CHRISTMAS EVE/CHRISTMAS MORNING? Despite my total lack of religious affiliation, I love midnight mass on Christmas eve – the music and the sense of harmony – it doesn't last long, but for that one moment, everything's perfect.

30.) WHEN DO YOU TAKE YOUR CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS DOWN? Epiphany.

So, I got tired of carrying around (or, to be honest, NOT carrying around) my very clunky Visor Prism. I mean, sure, it had a cool blue case, and all. And, the wireless net attachment is kinda cool, but…it's so big and bulky.

And then I found it.
It's teeny.
It's light.
It's suave.
It's the Palm Tungsten|T, and even though I don't own any bluetooth-enabled devices (yet), I love it already.
And I haven't even totally set it up yet.

Oh, and the really nifty part?

It comes with Scrabble®.

I just love new toys.