So, it is completely cruel to whip your dog into a total frenzy of thinking he's about to get a present, only to discover, once you open the box that it's not that present yet but a present for you. Um, sorry George.

And thanks, Jack, for the beautiful Cartier-Bresson book. What I said was true. Do they have Christmas in Dubai? I'll write soon, my e-mail is a morass at the moment, that threatens to draw me down into it like sticky flypaper.

The house is mostly clean, dinner has been eaten, presents are being wrapped. Kelly and Gavin will arrive tomorrow after we get home from work and there will be wine and Thai food and much happiness. I am prognosticating here.

On my way to work this morning, I fell victim to an NPR interview with Marshall Chapman, who's my new obsession. Have told Christopher her new book and CD are what I want for Christmas, and she's coming here at the end of January for a performance and reading. Yippee. Sometimes I want to smack myself for having missed out on someone this wonderful and cool, music this alive, and then I'm just glad I found out about it at all. There's so damn much out there. (Seriously, go to that link and read the excerpt from the book and listen to the music samples AND the Middle English RAP and tell me you're not hooked.)

Three things I learned from the newspaper today.

1. It's okay if I sent you a Christmas card and you're of another faith or no faith at all. (Not to mention I only sent the Christmas specific cards when I ran out of the others.)

2. The best way to tell the story of Scientology is with children ages 8-12.

3. People in their 20s and early 30s don't have to be grown-ups anymore. It's official. But don't go living at home so fast or anything.

Night.

earworm: "Rode Hard and Put Up Wet," Marshall Chapman

random rec: flossing

namecheck: Dr. Jack "King of Dubai and Good Taste" Hillwig