WanderingAmylessly 2.0

What's so merry about it, part deux. Henry learned the true meaning of Christmas this year - the spirit of giving. In fact, he even gave of himself. What a sweet boy. Well, that woulda been nice and all, but what he gave everyone was a hideous case of the stomach flu. He got it the Wednesday before Christmas, Amy got it Christmas Eve, Tim's dad got it Christmas Day, Tim's mom got it Dec. 26, Tim got it Dec. 27. Also on Dec. 27, Amy met Tim's brother for coffee at Starbucks in University City, and Henry decided everyone else had been getting too much attention and sympathy for being sick. He thought he'd try again, vomiting all over Starbucks (and all over himself and IN the diaper bag). And then - really I'm not making this up - that night, the CAT got sick. So. Happy holidays. Isn't 2004 over yet? We're wishing for good luck in the new year...

I know I'm supposed to be in the holiday spirit and all, but who can get merry about Christmas when... 1. Henry has a double ear infection. Again. 2. My cousin, who is about 5 months pregnant, found out that her baby will need open heart surgery a couple days after birth, and two more by age 2. 3. Our friends, John and Mary, have a preemie who's struggling right now with fluid around his lung and other issues. (Pray for these babies. They could use lots of positive energy.) 4. It's about 4 degrees outside. 5. So many people have loved ones in the military who are halfway around the world right now. 6. No more work has been done to repair our house. 7. They haven't caught Wichita's serial killer. 8. They're forecasting a "wintry mix" for tomorrow. In Iowa, a "wintry mix" means goodbye traction, hello ditch. Ok. So I'm grumbling. There are many things to be thankful for. Doctors, who know their stuff and can work minor and ma

Third invoice from the roofers. It says if we don't pay by today, they're putting a mechanics lien on our house. Or, as the roofing company owner, Denny a.k.a. Scrooge, so sweetly put it on the phone to Tim yesterday, "I'm putting a mechanics lien on your f***ing house." Attorneys have been contacted. Insurance adjusters have told the guy to back off. All this mess...and we were just trying to get a roof over our toddler son's head. What a tale of woe. On a completely unrelated note, our Christmas cards just came back from the printer. So we'll be sending them out. Someday. And, speaking of...why don't they make any really adorable Christmas stamps anymore? I think I'll celebrate Kwanzaa this year, because that holiday has the most vibrant images on postage, from what I've seen. However, USPS gets points for one interesting product: they make Happy Birthday stamps! I had no idea.

Readers have been clamoring for a roof-disaster update, so I'll give the highlights: • The roofers' insurance company will be paying for all of the damage and repair, which includes cleaning all our carpets, repairing drywall, painting walls and ceilings, replacing the kitchen table light, putting in new attic insulation, and renting of all the equipment used to dry everything out. • We're getting the cutest new kitchen table light. It looks a lot like this , except the four bulbs shine down instead of up. • When all this repair, painting, installation, cleaning, etc., will actually get done—who knows. I decided the MRGs (moron roofing guys, for those who didn't remember the acronym) were not going to ruin my holidays so, even though we'll have to take it all down soon for the repair crews, we still decorated. We have a $10 fake tree (that has "needles" on the trunk...nice), fully adorned. Tim says it looks ok...in the dark. • Also, we will no

After yesterday's "retreat," I needed some humor. I've discovered that the Dilbert cartoon might just be the most hysterical literature on this Earth: "Lately the only thing keeping me from being a serial killer is my distaste for manual labour." - Dilbert "I have forgotten my password. I humbly beg for assistance." "I have no time for boring administrative tasks, you fool! I'm too busy upgrading the network." "You could have given me a new password in the time it took to belittle me." "Yeah, but which option would give me job satisfaction?" - Dogbert the Sysadmin & Asok "All great ideas look like bad ideas to people who are losers. Its always good to test a new idea with known losers to make sure they dont like it." - Dogbert I have a new personal crusade. I'm going to hunt down the people who have strong opinions on subjects they dont understand. Then I'll bop them wit

In about two hours, I will be sitting with my office coworkers in a conference room with a box of cookies and cans of soda, discussing an upcoming departmental restructuring. Could I be any less enthused? Highly doubtful. Biggest funny is that our supervisor is calling it a "retreat." I know—retreats in the business world are common, as meetings held away from the office to talk about the future of the company or to reflect upon past projects. But I find it amusing, if not a bit alarming, that the OTHER definitions of "retreat" put a different twist on the whole purpose of the meeting. 1. Hideaway, an area where you can be alone: I wish. Instead, I will spend the afternoon with a roomful of people who, for the most part, grate on my nerves. 2. Step back, opposite of advance: So true, so true. We won't move anything forward. We'll just spend hours debating and gritching. I'm not being negative; I'm being a realist. 3. Hiding place for spide

Drink Your Vegetables: Soda Company Unleashes Weird Holiday Flavors SEATTLE (AP) -- Jones Soda Co. takes the idea of a liquid diet to a new low. How does Green Bean Casserole Soda strike you? And how about an aggressively buttery-smelling Mashed Potato Soda? Even the creators of the fizzy concoctions at this small Seattle soda company can hardly stomach the stuff. But last year's unexpected success of the Turkey & Gravy Soda means another round of bizarre food-flavored soft drinks. As an added bonus-- they're calorie-free. This week Jones Soda Co. launches a full meal deal of five Thanksgiving soda flavors, from the bile-colored Green Bean Casserole to the sweet-- but slightly sickly-- Fruitcake Soda. Last year's Turkey & Gravy is also back on the menu. If you think it sounds less than appetizing, you're not alone. "Oh, man, I can't drink that!" cries out company chief executive Peter van Stolk, after pouring himself a drink of mashe

Not for my waistline, but definitely for my sweet tooth, the hands-down best part of the holidays has to involve homebaked goodies. That's why Tim and I have invited our friends over next Sunday for an afternoon of nog and cookies. It sounded like a good idea at the time. I envisioned a perfectly decorated house, tray after tray of delectable goodies that would put Martha Stewart to shame (if she weren't already looked down upon, that is), and just enough rum to calm frazzled holiday nerves. Then we realized—we actually have to make the food. We could, I suppose, cheat and pick up pseudo-homemade cookies, candies, and pastries from shops around town. But no one ever started meaningful family holiday traditions by hopping in the car and buying stale chex mix and cardboard-like gingerbread from the local Hy-Vee. So I've started. One down—cranberry-orange mini muffins—and many more to go. Among those sugar plum visions on our to-make menu: cream wafers, peanut butter H

Yesterday, I thought a 30-year serial killer mystery had been solved. Truly, I did. The goings-on of Wichita police officers made the national news. That nearly NEVER happens. Cops raided a house in south Wichita, and dragged a man off to jail in handcuffs. Speculation started, rumors ran rampant, TV media personalities broadcast this man's name all over the place and talked to neighbors, and before he knew what hit him—this poor man had been branded BTK. It's him!, cried the masses. Lynch him! Burn him at the stake! Caught, tried, and convicted on the city streets, in a matter of hours. A travesty. That's what Police Chief Norman Williams called it. I must admit, I jumped to the "it's him" conclusion almost immediately. I SO wanted it to be him, so that the people of southcentral Kansas could rest easier. So that every man between the ages of 45 and 70 in the metro area could walk free without suspicious eyes following him. So that men in town who are trai