Christmas Card-Worthy

The snow in Wisconsin is nearly Christmas card-worthy. Notice I said nearly. What with the rain and the sun, it has melted into a slightly sub-par dollar store card version. It's still ten times prettier than the snow in New York City.
I have finally returned to the city, after a 14 hour journey back here. It was remarkably uneventful. We got home at 3 am and fell asleep so fast I woke up later to find all the blankets still on the floor from when we left six days ago.
I got such excellent presents this year and I hope the ones I gave were as good. Particularly wonderful--a blue suede blazer from my mom, a cooking class from Joe and all the CDs I got from various people. I ate until I was sick (I can still feel the sugar hardening my veins) and visited with my ever-slowing, slightly demented (not because they're old, they've always been that way) grandparents. Joe and I stayed in the little cabin a few nights. The first night we built a fire. It was wonderful--once we finally got it started. It took a half hour, a stack of newpaper and one small burn on my wrist before it would burn on it's own. Then we dragged the loveseat over in front of the fireplace and wrapped up in a blanket to watch.
And for the first time, Joe got to participate in the greatest Christmas tradition of all: playing Royale Rummy. Yes, my family gambles, but only on Christmas Eve. We deal dummy hands, stack pennies, yell at each other when we're too slow, and cackle over our loved ones loss of cash. I made 20 cents this year. Sweet.

Toys R Us Terror

Two days ago Joe tried to go to Toys R Us and the line was an hour long just to get INTO THE STORE. Can you imagine the pushing, the chaos, the pain that must have been going on inside? No thank you. We'll order our My Little Ponies online from now on.
So I have successfully finished moving into Joe's Apartment. This was by far the easiest move I have ever had, for many reasones. One, I didn't have to take any of my furniture with me. Two, I've been selling off furniture I have now (most of which I got for free in the first place) so the extra cash has put me in a good mood. And Three, Spike wanted to buy my futon from me, but I told him he could have it for free if he brought his minivan and helped me move. Sweet. It was a piece of junk anyways. So Saturday night, the only night Spike could be there, I ran home, threw everything into boxes in 4 hours (not to mention selling my desk, DVD player, taking the kitchen cart, etc.) and we moved all my stuff in one load. Traffic was killer and it took us over an hour each way, but hey, I wasn't paying for gas.
Joe and I (or should I say "I, while hassling Joe to help me") have managed to clear a huge amount of space in his apartment just by moving stuff around. Clean, condense, organize, I keep telling him. I have an entire closet upstairs to myself now.
The one great thing we acquired from my old apartment is the kitchen cart. Basically a cutting board on wheels. It fits under the stairs perfectly, then we can pull it out to have more space to make dinner.
Unfortunately, it looks like there's a chance that I mouse has been roaming Joe's kitchen. Shhh. Don't mention it. I just keep reminding him that I'm a bloodthirsty mousekiller and it can't hide for long. We're going to have to keep our kitchen psychotically, institutionally clean, though.
Soon I will "girly" the place up. I have curtains to hang over the barred window and a sheet to cover his super-nasty futon couch. I'm going to get a makeup mirror to do my makeup in the living room. Nice framed pictures will be hung next to the dusty SpongeBob (Don't worry, I won't take him down...) Bras and nylons will be hung out to dry in the bathroom. If I wore nylons. Or bras. The rug will be dragged outside and beaten. And I will, yes I WILL put up Christmas lights.

Saddam Hussein

How is a trial for Saddam Hussein even possible? I've been told they're modeling it after war crime trials from World War II. They pick certain events--jailing then torturing an entire village for instance--and try him for that. Then move onto the next heinous act. I just read that it is possible he will get the death sentance by hanging, which seems obvious. However someone suggested to me yesterday that they will never hang him. It would make him a martyr. Better to let him rot in jail for the rest of his life, suffering, becoming pathetically cowed and dying alone. Honestly, which is worse? But that would keep him around as a cause too--can't you see a suicide bomber screaming "Free Sadam"?
Just today he screamed at the judge to "go to hell" and that he would not return to "an unjust court." He also claims he's been denied access to "exercise facilities." Who does he think he is? An all-powerful tyrant? I was denied exercise facilities once too. They said, "This isn't your gym. Now put on some pants and get out." You don't see me complaining do you?
So again I ask: How to you hold a trial for evil? I can't even stand to watch.