There's a special place in hell for people like us. In this case, 'Chris' is Mr. Lanphear of retrospecticus.org non-fame.

So, anyway. Enough boring retellings of my day. What weirdnesses did you encounter on your little blue planet today?

Hey, quit giving me that weird look. No matter how tiresome this entry is, it's far, far better than my recounting the fact that when I was picking out produce at the supermarket today, the muzak got switched over to the 'disco' feed. Nothing like picking out oranges and romaine lettuce to the disco beat of "Never Knew Love Like This Before."It's not that I live on my own little otherwise-uninhabited planet, see? It's just that this particular planet's silliness makes me want to hole up and write deadpan little love sonnets to it.

Think about it—what's our planet contributed to the galaxy? If a group of bored interstellar travellers were roaming around the galaxy, trying to figure out what planet to visit next, what would they come here to see? Go ahead, ask me:

"So why would bored interstellar travellers bother to come to Earth?"

Did you ever have a family member whose antics were guaranteed to liven up any holiday gathering? Someone whose particularly-skewed ideas of fun and amusement were the subject of dinner-table conversations for years to come?

I wouldn't be posting if I didn't have one. Truthfully, I had several, but the one that comes to mind is Clint.

In my family, "mudding" is a verb. As in, "Clint's gone mudding. Who's gonna pull him out this time?"

He wasn't the first member of my family to get addicted to this particularly-rural pastime. My uncle, Keith, was the one whose antics that most of us remember most vividly. My sister, when asked to describe, said it this way: "On every holiday, Keith would take the biggest vehicle he could find and go out to the bluff and sink that sucker up to the axles in mud, and then we'd all have to go pull him out."

Clint was the same way.

…so, anyway, Wanda looked at him with murder in her eyes and said—nothing.

It's funnier if you knew her, truly.
But if you know me, you know a little about her.I rarely write of my father's family; not because of lack of interest, but because of lack of knowledge. My father has several siblings, most of whom are still living, but whom I have not seen in years. Moving seven hours away virtually guarantees that you lose touch with many of the family figures that you counted as regulars among your childhood holiday celebrations.

I was greatly amused by the proposed campaign stickers created [Modern Humorist. Good for those of you who have the "takes offense" toggle set to Off.

I'm probably going Christmas shopping tomorrow. Usual haunts in Birmingham: The Summit and the Galleria. Between those two I should find what I'm looking for. I'd love to hit up the smaller and more eclectic shops in B'ham, but to be honest I don't know where they are. A pity.

Other thoughts—I think that part of Mom's Christmas present may be a gift certificate to a store called "That Special Season"—it's a holiday store in her town that gets a lot of her holiday spending money every year. They have gorgeous ornaments, and the Snow Village stuff that she collects.

So much to remember…