"Sleigh Ride" Makes the Baby Jesus Cry

When you have four cats, it's usually not a good idea to go home emptyhanded.

So on my way home, I stopped at what we affectionately term the Kwik-E-Mart in the parking lot adjoining work. I live pretty close by, so I could almost hear the hungry wailing of ravenous beasts. But it turned out to be just a Christmas jingle.

Never mind that Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Would it kill these people to wait just one more day? If I were wealthy and powerful, I'd lobby Congress to pass legislation forbidding the wanton display of any Christmas paraphernalia until after dusk, Thanksgiving Day.

No, that's a lie. If I were wealthy and powerful I'd move to a Greek island and hire a large number* of attractive male personal assistants. For, you know, errands.

Unfortunately, this particular piece of Christmas music was "Sleigh Ride," by Leroy Anderson, and for as long as I can remember this has been perhaps my least favorite piece of music in the known universe. I do have a pretty solid basis for comparison. I happen to own - and proud of it, too! - a Liberace Christmas CD I once received as a white elephant gift at an office holiday party. It's an awe-inspiring thing. It sounds kind of like the head Blue Meanie from Yellow Submarine dressed up in a sequined Santa suit and OD'd on Valium, managing in the process to lose bowel control all over a powder-blue baby grand. To add to the overall effect, it's very poorly remastered, so sometimes the pitch sort of slides away a bit and you end up having to tilt your head to the side while you listen to it. It hurts. It makes you feel tainted - yet kind of sparkly, somehow.

It beats the pants off "Sleigh Ride."

So this is not the most promising start to the holiday season, though I still have hopes. I only wish people wouldn't keep pushing to get started earlier and earlier, because that just means everybody gets sick of it and takes everything down when Christmas proper isn't even over, and I'm the only person I know who leaves up the lights and decorations until Twelfth Night, and I absolutely will not take them down a moment sooner.

And if the neighbors give me dirty looks for it, I'll sic my cats on them.

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*It's important to have several, because this increases the odds that one or two of them might turn out to be straight.

A Fashion Citizen's Arrest

I love thrift-store shopping. Depending on the store, of course, you can find some unique and beautiful pieces that help express your personal style. It takes a little more digging than just going to a department store; but on the other hand, you're much less likely to end up in a public place with someone else wearing the exact same outfit: fashion death!

Plus, it's cheap.

My in-laws gave me a TJ Maxx gift certificate for my birthday, though, so I went shopping there today. It's a bit more of a challenge. Not that I'm averse to a bit of a challenge! There's kind of a hodgepodge of items to pick through, like a thrift store, but everything costs a little more than it should, and many of the items are heartbreakingly ugly. I did find three very nice new tops. But the trip also made it clear that it's incumbent on me, as a public service, to post a quick list of all-time fashion don'ts. I don't give a rat's ass if these things are in style and all your friends are wearing them: DON'T!

Shoulder pads. Just when you were heaving a sigh of relief, deciding the 80s were just a horrible, cocaine-fueled nightmare, you come across something with shoulder pads at what is supposed to be a respectable clothing store. Do you really want to look like a football player? It's okay to buy these shirts, though: this is why God, in Her infinite wisdom, gave us scissors and garbage cans.

Stripes. Stripes should be worn in black and white ONLY, do you hear me? And no, navy is not an acceptable alternative. We all know you're not a sailor, no matter how many - never mind.

Animal prints. Be they zebra, leopard, giraffe, crocodile, or any other animal pattern; be they on shoes, bags, or garments, animal prints are tacky, tacky, tacky. Why not put on rhinestone-studded glasses and a quarter-inch-thick layer of lipstick while you're at it?

Excessive ornamentation. This includes fringe, non-functional buttons, seashells, rhinestones (shudder), and aggressive beading. Delicate beading is okay.

Neon colors. Acceptable on swimwear, nowhere else.

Pant or skirt sets which use the same print on the top as on the bottom. Ugh! Solids are okay, though you really ought to mix it up a little. But wearing the exact same print on your blouse as your capris makes the baby Jesus cry.

Long, pointy-toed shoes. I can't understand why any woman would want to look, not just like a witch, but like a witch with big feet. Granted that, in a pinch, you can stab an attacker with the toe. But why would you need to? That's what the stiletto heel is for.

Shapeless garments, or, alternately, garments with a shape that contrasts with your own. You have a waist. Use it. And don't wear clothes that argue with you, because you'll lose.

Short empire-waist tops. Personally, I love empire-waist tops! But be sure they're long enough, otherwise your hips will look like a refrigerator carton.

Boring clothes. One word: why?

And lest you think I'm just trying to impose my own taste on the fashion world as a whole, here's a quick list of things I wouldn't be caught dead in that you are nonetheless allowed to wear.

Mod or retro prints. Not my thing, but go for it if you like it.

High-necked garments. Don't think it doesn't cause me a few pangs to allow these. You shouldn't be afraid of a little cleavage. I myself am not afraid of rather a lot of it; but if you must, you may.

Slacks. I look awful in them. Maybe you don't.

Collars. I hate them, but I couldn't tell you why. It's entirely irrational; so you may wear all the collars (and lapels, for that matter - even notched!) that you want.

Sensible shoes. Just don't wear white ones from Labor Day to Memorial Day, okay? Not even in Texas. That's all I ask.

I hope this has been enlightening. Happy Fashion! I'm off to play dress-up.

Ready for the Weekend

Anna was taken aback by the bright green bandages on my arms when I got home. "Why do you have those?" she asked.

"Because I gave blood at work today," I said.

She was perplexed. "Somebody at work ran out of blood?"

Actually, it wouldn't surprise me.

Today feels like a Friday: the last day of school, and there's jubilation in the air. I just dropped Eric off at his grandma's house for the long weekend.

She gardens, my ex-mother-in-law, which is odd. Inside the house it's always dark and gloomy. It's furnished and decorated with heavy, almost Gothic antiques. The TV, the only light source in the living room, is never off. There are big windows, but they never seem to admit any light. My ex-father-in-law floats around the place, vaguely, like an alcohol-fueled ghost. It's an incredibly depressing place; but outside is a profusion of bloom and life that contrasts starkly with the airless indoors.

Whereas I tend to be the other way around: my home tends to be, if not in the strictest sense clean, at least cozy and cheerful inside; but my outdoor design and maintenance abilities make the baby Jesus cry.

It should be a fun weekend. I'm going to Corpus with friends, liquor, and the flying spaghetti car. There will be dancing!

With luck, there won't be any further bloodshed.