“The three of you,” Rob said, “have the same maturity level.”

Yeah, pretty much.

The dog threw up three times in the car. Once on the Throgs Neck Bridge and twice on the L.I.E. Coming home, with Rob in the car, she didn’t throw up once, of course.

While the rest of the world is in a frenzy finishing up their last-minute Christmas preparations, I’m pretty much done with it all. This weekend was three parties for us, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and now it’s over.

Friday was Rob’s dad’s company holiday party. His dad is co-owner of the company, and it was held in a penthouse ballroom overlooking Queens and Manhattan. I wore a great little black dress. I said it was too low-cut, and Rob said it was “awesome”. My sister-in-law showed up looking cleavagy, too, and Rob’s mom shook her head, and goes, “I always thought my boys were ass men.”

Saturday was our annual holiday party. All the cool kids came over and got into conversations about how we’re in our mid-twenties and nothing is quite the same as they promised us it would be when we got here, and we’re getting through it all and, oh, look! We’re drunk and philosophical. Merry Christmas.

Sunday was my family coming over to do Christmas, since we aren’t going to be around for actual Christmas. My brother came, which made me happy, and he brought his girlfriend, who is all kinds of adorable. I brought her home and Gus walked her to the door, like an actual young guy instead of the punky dorkball that he used to be. He hopped back in the car and grinned at me. “Isn’t she a cutie?” He still as a dirt-stach developing mustache, and Art Garfunkle hair, but he still seemed pretty grown up.

6 days to the beach.

Tonight is Rob’s dad’s company’s annual holiday party, and I’m very excited to go, simply because I get to wear heels. We’re even going in a LIMO! I know, I sound backwoods.

I need to nap first, but before I do, I need to get to Long Island, alone, with the two dogs. Not fun. Matty is fine, but Leeloo is a pukehead in the car. Her Dramamine only sometimes works. The rest of the time, we have to pull over with cars whizzing past us, and I have to clean up the vomit one-handed while I use the other to constantly shove Matty backwards, away from the door. He sees the open door and, beyond it, the grass of the side of the highway, and enthusiastically attempts, multiple times, to launch himself towards Outside. Stupid dog. One time, in Queens, he managed to get out; we were dropping Rob’s grandma off at her apartment. I had a heart-attack chasing him while he was merrily trotting across FOUR LANES OF TRAFFIC to the sidewalk across the busy street; cars came screeching to a halt while he blindly walked in front of them. Now that we have Leeloo, I know she would be right behind him… she goes wherever he does. Having two people in the car helps; one can reach back and hold Matty, so it’s less of a hassle. But today, I’m flying solo. I’ve done it before, but I’m not generally happy about it.

Dear small dog: please don’t throw up on this trip. I just can’t deal right now.

Two days ago I was checking out at Target and realized I didn’t have my reusable shopping bags with me. Remembering to take them to the grocery store is getting easier, but remembering to take them elsewhere is still a challenge, and I had forgotten this time.

I’m making the effort, though, and I’m remembering more often, because I believe the elimination of plastic bags will go very far in helping our planet stay healthy. I haven’t quite gotten to the point where I take them to the mall, but I’ll get there.

When I forget to bring my bags, I ask for paper if it’s an option. It’s easier on the environment, and I can use paper bags to hold our paper and cardboard recycling.

I’m getting kind of tired of the flack, though. I’m not “in your face” about carrying canvas, but, often, my personal bags garner a lot of eye rolls. (Occasionally, though, I’ll get a cheerful clerk who is encouraging and gives me kudos).

Our friends think we’re weird and don’t care.

The girl at Old Navy even refused to bag my lone pair of pants in a paper bag, stating, “We’re supposed to give bags based on the size of the purchase. So…”

“Wait, you really can’t give me a paper bag? Even though I asked? Seriously? Even though you have plenty of paper bags right there?”

“No.”

She shook out a plastic bag and prepared to package my khakis. I grabbed them before she could, scowling.

“I’ll just carry them.” I shoved them in my purse.

So anyway, Target. Two days ago. Canvas bags forgotten. I had quite a few things to buy and realized I’d need to take a loathsome plastic bag. The clerk was preparing to put everything in two bags, and I stopped her. “Just put it all in one. I know it’s full, but it’ll be fine.”

She did, and then she turned off her light and left when we were done. I was halfway to the door when I realized that she had DOUBLE BAGGED my purchase. I turned around and brought one back. I tucked it back into position on the hooks so that hopefully it will get used and not thrown out.

I don’t mean to be militant, but 500 billion bags a year (that’s the low estimate) is just WAY too much. Many of them end up in the bellies of sea turtles, breaking down into the soil and releasing toxins, and littering the land. I’ll be really excited when reusable bags are “cool”, and with the plethora of great designs popping up everywhere from etsy to Anya Hindmarch’s instantly iconic “I Am Not A Plastic Bag” bag, they will be in a few years.

Until then, I’ll deal with the eyerolls, but if you see me out packing my groceries into canvas, do me a favor. Cut me some slack, hey? It’s your posterity, too, that I’m thinking of.

Last year, by Christmas Day, Rob and I were so over the holiday season. Hanukkah will do that to you. Eight days of presents is actually exhausting. Also? I started thinking about gifts mid-October, so I’ve been in holiday mode for 2 months.

12 days to the beach. 12 days to the beach.

We went to Rob’s parent’s house this weekend for the annual Hanukkah party with the family. There’s no open-one-gift-everybody-say-Awww-move-to-the-next. It’s chaos. Everyone stakes out a place in the living room to put their horde, and then takes their presents and runs around handing them out, sometimes via tossing them through a snowstorm of furiously opened wrapping paper to the recipient. It’s GREEDY! Half-way through dinner, my sister-in-law (who’s, like, 32) starts bouncing in her seat.

“I want presents!” she stage whispered, grinning. I grinned and started bouncing, too.

We had to wait until dinner was cleared and the table cloth was replaced (dinner used a “meat table cloth” and dessert needed to be laid out on a “dairy table cloth” which any rabbi would probably tell you was bull and doesn’t count as keeping kosher, but trying to serve non-dairy creamer for coffee would have resulted in an uproar. So. Anyway.) The we had to wait through dessert, and then we all had to light candles, which I love doing as a group.

*pictures are coming*

THEN we had to give Rob’s grandma her special gift. She’s 89, but she’s still pretty good at using a computer, as long as it’s not too complicated. She likes to play bridge online and poke around on “that internet”; she’ll probably do email, too, now. Well before Thanksgiving, Rob found a good deal on a basic-format computer (by Google… it’s Linux based!) and emailed all the cousins and his siblings to see what they thought about pitching in for it. They agreed, my in-laws bought the printer, and Rob’s sister, Judi, picked out a nice small desk from IKEA. Other cousins went to visit her on the grounds of being social and stealthily measured the space they thought the computer desk should go, while grandma accepted a phone call from another grandchild who “just happened” to be calling at the right moment. We wrapped the monitor so she had something to open, and then explained what we had orchestrated and showed her all the rest of the boxes, down to packages of ink; everything she would need. She was speechless, and extremely happy. We’re going to go down next weekend to hook it up.

Finally, it was present time!

I got a cozy sweater and 2 gorgeous yellow baking dishes from my in-laws (my mother-in-law said she bought me the sweater because Rob likes soft things, and I said, “Does this mean he should pet me?!” and then it was all awkward silence for a few moments, because I rock the foot-in-mouth disease.) I also got “How I Met Your Mother” season 1 on DVD from them and season 2 from Rob. My sister-in-law, the bouncy one, gave me a huge box of individually wrapped small things, all baking stuff, including some Sprinkles cupcake mixes, which I’m just going to go ahead and highly recommend, even though I haven’t tried them, because the packaging is adorable (everyone online has been raving about them, though).

Rob’s cousin gave us baked goods, including homemade fudge, which I tried to eat before Rob got to it. I got some other wonderful stuff as well, and we spent the rest of the night hanging out, drinking Scotch, and playing with new toys.

I now own a Slanket. My life is so, so much better than yours. You want one, too? Don’t even try. They’re sold out until ’08, meaning all you suckers out there who do NOT own a Slanket will just have to freeze. All colors are GONE. Even Limoges! *smug*

Update: I emailed asking why my new Slanket is called “Limoges”. Jeff from customer service says that it’s named after the Pantone color. Gotcha! Thanks, Jeff!

I have a decorated tree! My friends fully rule; Jen, Micha and Stu! came over last night and helped decorate (and Stu! brought me Starbucks Christmas tea, my fave).

The tree is really, really gaudy. Every year for the past five years, I’ve bought a few ornaments to add to my collection, and I planned on doing so for a long time. Really, though, I think I might have to stop It’s pretty full, and I didn’t use all of my ornaments (I skipped the “filler” ones that have no sentimental value, like the colored balls).

As soon as I figure out my new camera, I’ll post pictures. I’m tempted to go back to my old one, but I’m trying to do a “full immersion” sort of thing.

The whole living room is pretty Christmasy, and Rob is sad that there’s not enough Hanukkah decorations. “Maybe some window clings?” he said, and I glared at him. There will be no “window clings” in my decorating.

As long as none of my friends use this on me!

Holiday Excuse Generator

I’ve been so sick that maintaining an upright position for more than half an hour has become a physical impossibility. This means my tree has gone undecorated, making me “bitter” and “angry” and “lacking in Christmas spirit”.

I like Christmas trees. I even enjoy the annoyance of them; they’re big, imposing, in the way, slightly inconvenient, and it’s comforting. This thing in my living room, however, taking up valuable floorspace, is not a Christmas tree. Christmas trees have lights and decorations. This is a six and a half foot tall cut plant in my living room, making me angry.

You’d think I’d just have Rob put the lights on and decorate it for me, but he’s mostly clueless. This is only his 3rd Christmas tree. And I’m picky. The lights have to be layered, so that the tree appears to be lit from within, and so that the edges of the branches are lit, too. It’s an art. It’s a science. He can’t do it; it is I, and only I, who has the ability to string white lights to perfection. And I can’t. And it sucks.

I like this chandelier! [The picture is a link] It’s still out of our price range at $2900, but it’s closer to what I’m looking for. I’m really close to going to IKEA and buying a metal one, then spray painting it red. I don’t know where I got the notion that I wanted a red lighting fixture, but I do, and now I’m obsessed with finding one.

Hanukkah tonight started off with a bang… I have a digital SLR. I have ZERO idea how to use it, but I’m pretty excited. Rob is thrilled with his gift from me, Guitar Hero III for the Wii. He’s been up there rocking out all night. We never made it to his parents for tubular meat celebrating Hanukkah; I just wasn’t well enough. Damn being sick!