How do I count the days?

After a grueling search, I've selected calendars. I cannot grab any calendar, lob it on the wall and call it a day. I sift through every bloody calendar in the store to find the perfect intention for the upcoming year. This is a neurosis--I know it and I embrace it.

"Get any calendar and get out," I chant. Bam! Wall of cat calendars. Dig up the funny ones and giggle vigorously.

Personality calendars? I can't paste one person's mug on my wall for an entire year anymore. Leif Garrett held a prime spot on my teenage landscape for so long the sun burned his moppy image onto the wall. Pass the supermodel, superstar, super ego wall. Aah, must ogle football calendars, laugh out loud at Far Side, and take an impromptu art appreciation course.

Medieval to match my office decor? Tuxedo cat calendar to match my cat? England to encourage me to pack up my husband and cross the big water? Knitting calendar with a pattern for every day? Art deco for a bold stroke of adventure?

Aha! The New Yorker cat cartoons! We have a winner! Throw up the blinders and dart for the cashier--nab that knitting calendar on the way. It's 50% off after all.

Enjoying the lull

Christmas is over. The new year is waiting to enter the room. This is my favorite time of the year. The crises Christmas crunch of a week ago is fading from memory and everything at work is sureal. No one is in the office, panic time has passed, and the abundance of chocolate goodies are no longer cooing my name. And so we blog; we enter a new world--bull in a China shop that I am, this should be interesting.