Feliz Noel

It is retardedly late, and yet here I am a-typing. I got to feeling somewhat guilty about being (as Bev says) a "Holiday Lollyblogger". My apologies, Beverina. My excuse is that I have been... busy. Yes, that's the one. Anyway, a brief and boring recap of the past few days goes as follows: 22nd I wrote my last, horrible exam. 23rd I flew home and hung around the house, then decorated the tree with the Fambly, who are all as delightful as ever. 24th I hung out at home again, and Katie F. came over for the Exchanging of the Presents (she got me a very delightful and useful set of wicker bin thingies and a nifty yoga book -- yay!). We went to Christmas Eve mass at Saint Jo's, and so I missed seeing Katie J. at the OLPH mass I had told her I was attending. Oops. But it was a lovely mass, despite the lack of Katie. 25th was, of course, Christmas day, and we opened our gifts and went to the Lockaus' for Christmas dinner, which was large and sumptuous, and met her aunt Lena, who seems very nice. Today I went to a movie with Jeanne and her new Boy, Rob. Jeanne: I approve. Since I have been reading too much Jane Austen, I deem Rob "a well-mannered young man, with good spirits and a pleasant countenance". Besides that, he was not too freaked out by our weirdness (and has excellent taste in girls. Hee.). After arriving home from the movie, I went to Laura's for dinner and more movies. I have seen five movies in the past 36 hours: Eurotrip, Lemony Snicket, Napoleon Dynamite, Fight Club, and Clockwork Orange. I say respectively: "Hee!" "Good show!" "HAHAHA!" "Whoa... cool" and "Kubrick and Burgess, I bow before thee. How's about a bit of the old... ultra-violence?" And now, against Laura's vehement concerns for my security (her concern does her credit, but I wanted to sleep at home anyway) I am back home and looking forward to a good sleep and another wonderful day. On the agenda: Lunch with Kim and either Mrs. Dear or Mrs. Penner (help! I don't remember which!) and a visit with Tawnie. The infinite promise of such a day is only matched by the joy of not doing any work.