blue christmas.

My primary email account is with Hotmail. MSN is big on superfluous links. On everything. For every action, you're met with four links to various articles on various pages in the MSN neighborhood of websites. Send an email, get a "sent message" page with links to job interview tips, celebrity gossip, and, the most popular, 15 ways to "pop the question." Lately, my email account seems to constantly be asking me, after every move I make, if the holiday season is getting me down. (Example.)

And the truth is, yes, the holiday season is getting me down. But let's be fair: the end of a roll of paper towels gets me down. Setting out to depress me is an easy task. And embarking on a season embedded with idyllic childhood memories and half-memories mixed with bits and pieces of made-for-TV Christmas movies is sort of like riding Pirates of the Caribbean: a couple of swift plunges followed by a long, damp tunnel, at the end of which is a colorful good time, but I don't really snap out of it and get to participate until everything is over.

I've planned out the gifts for all but three people on our list and bought most of them already. We got our tree today and decorated it tonight...topped off by a garish homemade star--the product of a leftover box, some acrylic paint, and gold glitter gel. John called it "classy." He's used that word to describe at least three other things today. I'm inclined to disbelieve.

The tree is really pretty though. A cute little fir of some kind with multi-colored lights and silver garland. And I have been happy today.

But mostly, lately, I'm living with a constant dull anger. I'm not saying I'm not depressed. I am. But. I also work retail.

things i did today, in no particular order.

Ate animal crackers.

Bought a new brush with a "comfort grip" gel handle at Target.

Realized that the people of Sweden must not have potlucks, since there were no casserole dishes at Ikea, which is having a dish sale.

Bought Christmas presents.

Resisted the urge to spend $10 on "chocolate caramel pretzel tangles" (Choxie: Chocolate with moxie, you've seen the commercials).

Obsessed over how many Christmas presents I have yet to buy.

Watched and didn't really enjoy My Best Friend's Wedding.

Decided I've only ever liked Julia Roberts in about three movies.

Regretted not spending the 10 bucks on crazy pretzel chocolate things.

Tried not to look like I was shopping for the two and a half hours I was at work.

Did the laundry and ran the dishwasher.

Watched Sideways with John.

surrender dorothy.

Last night I watched the Golden Girls Reunion on Lifetime. I knew already that my mom and my sister had watched it, in their own time zone, which is two hours ahead of mine, at an earlier scheduled time, which meant they watched it three hours before I did. I had an algebra class flashback trying to figure out the difference of time in between them eating cheesecake at my sister's house and me sitting in my PJs listening to my husband make flustered noises about Battlefield Vietnam, which he was playing online with headphones so I could hear the TV. (Apparently, when you play online, people can shoot you, even if you're on their side, so they can fly the helicopter. Barbarians.) I wanted some cheesecake, too. And, of course, Dorothy was the one to get married and move away. And it doesn't matter how much I tell myself that I'm sick of that show, I'm just not. I could watch it every day if our apartment was bigger. I laugh out loud every time I watch it.

This morning, on my way to work, I heard part of this story on KCRW. Really, I only heard the beginning. But there they were, this father and son, just talking. About war. About these horrible things. Like being on the phone with your son and having to hang up because he says there's shooting going on behind him and for you not to tell your wife, his mother. And you listen. And yet, it wasn't depressing. Frederick Busch and his son, Ben, had this lovely way of speaking of and to each other that just made me miss my own dad, who has been known to call me out of the blue to tell me about something he heard on public radio that I would have liked. He rarely remembers who anyone was, what show he was listening to, and sometimes he can't tell me what it was about. Just that he thought of me. I never want any more than that anyway. A couple of times he's remembered and given me books he's either heard reviewed or heard the author talk about. And they've been good. Because NPR has good taste and my father knows mine. So, I missed my dad a lot today. But this interview was great because of the way this elloquent marine described his own insights into his father, a novelist, listening to his son over the phone being, basically, shot at, and knowing what this novelist father would imagine was happening because (and this is the line that made me stop breathing) "fiction is the focus of his life." I love when phrases like that pop out of conversation or off a page and fly around in front of me, like something beautiful I wasn't expecting. Like butterflies. And I do stop breathing for a second.

But I've been breathing again for hours and hours now. I'm listening to the Garden State soundtrack and am about to start reading Shopgirl, which I'm about halfway through, while I wait for John to come home from his dismal temp job. Cross your fingers. We need something to happen.

Have you ordered your 2006 lauraslens.com calendar yet? There are always good things waiting on the pages of another year.

do your worst, mr. hughes.

John and I went to see Chicken Little in 3D tonight at the El Capitan Theater. And it was cute. We got to keep our 3D glasses, which are green and look like Chicken Little's. Neat stuff. I actually cried a little during the movie. Because Zach Braff is one adorable and sad little chicken.

I'm taking a lot of these quizzes lately. I think that means I have no life. But I don't care, 'cause I'm Katharine Hepburn! Sweet!

Katharine Hepburn You scored 11% grit, 28% wit, 42% flair, and 28% class!

You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women. Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the Classic Leading Man Test.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 8% on grit You scored higher than 49% on wit You scored higher than 63% on flair You scored higher than 52% on class

Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

shameless, really.

Happy November, guys and gals. Only two more months left in this year. Sounds like a good reason to go shopping. Especially now that the lauraslens.com store has a 2006 wall calendar.

Check it out. Christmas is coming and I need money.