Things that make me happy:

- Tiny white lights strung up on the railing around the perimeter of my back deck

- Tiny white tubes of goop that are making my newfound eczema go away

- A tidy house

- Having friends over, which gave me the incentive to tidy the house

- Having my friends' children over, too, and playing with them and with all the stuffed animals that hadn't come out of my moving boxes until the children got here looking for playthings

- Watching my kitty, Olivia, sit in a circle with Cassie, age 4, and Rilee, age two, looking for all the world like she thought she was a real girl, too

- Eating Santarpio's pizza with a spoon (well, I actually used a fork and knife, but a spoon would've been more productive)

- Opening the housewarming gift that Cassie picked out for me while her eyes opened wide with delight

- The Chanukah bear in a little rocking chair that Cassie picked out for me

- Wondering what the hell I'm going to do with a Chanukah bear in a little rocking chair

- Baking a gingerbread for my guests and serving it with scads of whipped cream

- Watching Before Sunset after my friends went home

- Crying though much of Before Sunset after my friends went home

- Trader Joe's

- Leaving Trader Joe's with a few dollars left in my wallet, for a change

- Resisting all the yummy gift-y holiday treats at Trader Joe's, after examining and pondering and, um, fondling each of them closely (Note to Jen: TJ's has Stollen this year and it's much cheaper than Cardullo's!)

- Watching Before Sunset a second time and crying that time, too

Look, I know it's the season for colds and flu and all that other fun, mucus-y stuff. But seriously, how many freaking times do they have to say "mucus" in one freaking medicine commercial? And do they have to keep running that same commercial over and over and over and ... well, you get the idea.

Mucus mucus mucus mucus mucus.

*shudder*

"It's like crack for 5-year-olds."

I had no idea it wasn't just a coincidence that all the little girls of my acquaintance dressed as princesses for Halloween. As it turns out, Salon reveals, it's a Disney conspiracy.

Link openly swiped from Brian.

Last week I checked in with Mother Ju to see what assignments we had from my cousin Jackie Ju for Thanksgiving dinner. Mother Ju told me we were responsible for an appetizer, the turkey, and a dessert. I suggested we talk over the weekend to figure out who would do what (besides the turkey, because she is the turkey master dominatrix and I wouldn’t even think of getting in her way on that*) and break down the responsibilities.

I called her Sunday night.

Cynical Ju: Hi Mom. It’s Cynical.
Mother Ju: I remember you! (This is her favorite little witticism. It annoys me. One day I know she really won't remember me, and then who'll be laughing? Oh, forget it.)
CJ: I thought you might. So what are my assignments for Thursday?
MJ: Well, I already made sweet and sour meatballs to bring for an appetizer. I thought we could do a fruit bowl for dessert, since there will be a bunch of other pies and cakes.
CJ: Sounds like a great idea! Don’t buy the fruit. I’ll pick that up and bring it to your house when I come.
MJ: I already have a pineapple so don’t get that!
CJ: Great! DON’T BUY ANY MORE FRUIT. I will take care of that, and I’ll cut it up at your house.
MJ: Okay, sweetheart.
CJ: Mom?
MJ: Yes, honey?
CJ: Don’t. Buy. Fruit.
MJ: (laughing) I won’t.

Last night (Tuesday) I called her on my way to the supermarket but she wasn’t home. I didn’t leave a message, but knew she would see my call on her Caller ID and call me back. Sure enough, I had just come home from the supermarket with A LOT OF DELICIOUS, NOT TO MENTION EXPENSIVE, FRUIT when the phone rang.

Cynical Ju: (Seeing her name on the Caller ID) Hi Mom.
Mother Ju: Don’t buy fruit!

Argh. She bought fruit. Who saw that coming?

Anybody need some grapes or cantaloupe? I seem to have some extras.

*I have been known to make a fan-freakin’-tastic turkey myself, and I say that with what I believe is an excess of humility, but have only done so when I have been away from my immediate family for Thanksgiving. In law school, I hosted very popular Turkey Day dinners all three years for my friends who also weren’t going home for the holiday. Mother Ju will brook no turkey-roasting competition in her kitchen so, when I’m with her for the occasion, I no longer even offer to help with that.

Can someone please explain to me how this is technically considered a comedy? Because, at best, I got one chuckle and one semi-guffaw out of the whole thing. I laughed at least one or two times more than that during Schindler's List, for heaven's sake.

Thing is, I saw the trailer for the sequel at the theater last week and thought it looked so hilarious that I knew I'd have to see it when it comes out. This, however, meant having to see the original first, which held less than zero interest for me when it was first released and in countless subsequent trips past it on the shelves of the video store over the last couple of years. In fact, I pretty much avoided that movie like E. coli. But when I mentioned to two friends, on separate occasions, that I thought the preview for the sequel looked pretty funny, and they each said that the first one was gosh-durned chuckle-filled, or words to that effect ... well, I was sure I had misjudged the original. So I rented it over the weekend and watched it last night.

Those friends I mentioned a second ago? Yeah. I blame them most of all.

See, I like Ben Stiller quite a lot, especially since The Ben Stiller Show aired way back when, so I really thought I might enjoy the movie when it got right down to it. But this movie's sophomoric sense of "humor" (and I truly hesitate to use that word to describe the movie's sensibility -- or lack thereof -- in any way) left me affectless and disinterested, even though I SWEAR I really wanted to enjoy it.

So here's the deal: I think I have a pretty good appreciation for humor. I think This is Spinal Tap, Pulp Fiction, and almost anything John Cusack did in the '80s and early '90s are pure comic genius, to name just a few. I think There's Something About Mary was, with only a few offensive moments excepted, nearly sidesplitting.

I think The Stooges are, well, stupid.

Sorry. (Well, not really sorry, truth be told. No hard feelings though, 'kay?)

Maybe this is kind of like how I don't fully understand why or how so many people thought George W. was doing a good enough job to re-elect him. I can respect that people have good reasons for the things they do, but I guess I don't have to actually understand 'em. Right?

I never want to see the phrase "meaty melee" published again, anywhere, for any reason.

Also, would you really want to say you're from Bad Axe? (I pity the fool.)

I have nothing to say that isn't painfully dull or pathetically self-indulgent. Which you could probably tell from my last couple of posts. I appreciate your stopping by. Really, I do. But move along now. There's nothing to see here.

It's about 60 degrees (F) outside today, and my office is about 90 degrees. Wonder why I feel kinda woozy.

It looks like the antidepressant I started taking a couple of months ago might be responsible for the gastric pain that landed me in the hospital a few weeks ago. The thing is, it was really helping my depression, but now I'm afraid to take it anymore. So I stopped. I need to talk to my doctor because we're getting into the most challenging time of year for me. Among other things, the 10th anniversary of my father's death is coming up. If personal history is any predictor, the month leading up to that anniversary will be pretty challenging; odds are, I'm going to need a little pharmaceutical help to manage it. Wish me luck with finding another medication that helps me as much as the other one did, but sans the off-the-charts tummy ache.

I was up much of last night with flu-like symptoms, so I called in sick this morning. Now I feel fine, just tired, but I'm staying home anyway. I am watching a movie, all snuggled under a fleece throw with Olivia tucked up against my hip. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is some weirdass stuff, by the way. In a good way, I think. I'll keep you posted, 'cause I know you all live for my fascinating updates.

And for your pussy-loving pleasure ....

Oh, and these are the food and water dishes I painted for her:

Aren't they purty?

You do know that men who are not circumcised have a significantly higher incidence of penile cancer, don't you?

I learned this when someone very close to me, who actually was circumcised, was diagnosed with penile squamous cell carcinoma a few years back. I learned then that penile cancer (sorry, I know some of you are understandably squeamish about this topic and are justifiably cringing and cupping yourselves right now) is not very common in the U.S. since most men here are routinely (if not necessarily ritually) circumcised shortly after birth, and that there is a much higher occurrence of it in countries like Japan, where men are rarely circumcised.

You can imagine that the person I know who had penile cancer was not a big fan of telling people about it, and you can also imagine that, out of respect for him, I and his friends and family have not regularly discussed the particular type of cancer he had. However, in recent years I have had a few friends who have discussed semi-publicly their plans not to circumcise their baby boys. When the topic has been raised, I have asked these friends their reasons for considering eschewing the circumcision of their sons, and the answers have uniformly been that these folks believed that there was no medical reason for removing the foreskin; that the only reason people do it is (a) because it has become commonplace and almost expected in western society, (b) because of what many people say is the misguided belief in the greater potential for bacteria growth under the foreskin, and (c) because they worry that their sons might look different from other children and become self-conscious as a result. These are, admittedly, not the best reasons for advocating in favor of male circumcision. These people typically cite studies suggesting that, with proper education and guidance, there is no reason for the uncircumcised male to have any problem with penile hygiene. From my own inquiries into the subject, they are basically correct. However, there are other health concerns that are not so easily explained which seem to occur much more frequently among uncircumcised men.

In today's Boston Globe there is an article regarding a new study suggesting that AIDS and HIV are also more common in men who are not circumcised. As with the penile cancer studies, it is not entirely clear why uncircumcised men are found to be at greater risk or susceptibility for developing these diseases, nor is it the case that circumcised men are actually immune to them (the man I know being just one example).

The guy I know? He died as a result of advanced penile squamous cell cancer, despite having been circumcised as a baby. His doctors, at one of the nation's preeminent cancer centers, were baffled by his case. The only instances they had ever seen or studied before had been among uncircumcised men, particularly those who lived in countries where the incidence of this particular type of cancer is far more common (and where male babies are not routinely circumcised) or those who worked in industries such as migrant farming wherein their skin might be exposed to certain deadly carcinogens which might be absorbed by and/or become trapped under the foreskin.

If I gave birth to a son, there is no question in my mind that I would have him circumcised. Knowing what I do, I genuinely can't see any good reason not to have it done. Today's news only confirms it for me.

Get thee to the theater right this instant to see: The Incredibles

Be sure to see: Ray, Sideways, Bridget Jones II (caveat: If you're a straight male, you may not want to bother, unless your short-term access to sex is riding on it, in which case, GO! Enjoy!)

Worth Seeing: Maria Full of Grace, Alfie, Birth, The Machinist, Shall We Dance?

Don't Bother: None in the last two months

Next on my list: Tarnation, Vera Drake, Closer, Enduring Love, Untold Scandal, The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie

Did I mention that one of my best birthday gifts was a gift card from one of the movie theater chains in the area? Yep, used it up already. Great idea. Shout out to my Thursday Night Girls' Club gals for that. Oh yeah.

Also, Ethiopian food rocks. As do the fags I shared it with the other night. (They practically dared me to write that.) (Oh, also: Shout out to Mazie, the super schnauzer!)

Is debaucherous an actual word? 'Cause I used it today in a blog comment and I think I like it enough to incorporate it into my daily vocabulatory* rotation. I might start using it even if it's not a real word, but I'd like to know anyway. I think it's gonna be a really useful word for me.

* (And while you're checking, is "vocabulatory" a word?)

Don't forget to wish luvabeans a happy birthday today!!!!

Happy birthday, Kellybean!

It just started snowing.

This wasn't supposed to start until much later tonight. Why do I bother listening to those stupid forecasters anyway? It's not like they've gotten any more accurate in their predictions since they changed their job titles from "weather men" to "meteorologists." Plus, all those spiffy computer models only seem to add to the confusion. ("Well, one model says we'll have rain today with some sleet starting up around dinnertime, but probably only west of Rt. 128, but all the other models say a blizzard is headed our way with the worst of it on the coast to the north of the city with tidal wave warnings in effect." Or some such.)

Holy crap. It's really winter. I can't decide if I'm excited or bummed out. Anyway, it's snowing.

Aveeno™ may be my new best friend.

Not only have my boobs and legs been itchy lately (a not uncommon cold-weather condition), but my face and neck have also had these dry, flaky patches periodically for a couple of months – starting even before the onset of fall/winter (and before little kitty came to live with me, by the way, so don’t try tying those things together). I finally admitted to myself that I had a problem (the first Step, as you freaks well know) when I hid behind my glasses for two weeks straight because my upper and lower eyelids were inflamed and cracking, and made an appointment to see a dermatologist. She can see me in early 2027 (well, the end of November), so in the meantime I’ve been desperate to keep my face from crumbling off a la Michael Jackson. I’ve tried cheap creams and expensive ones, ones with SPF and ones without, ones with oatmeal (supposed to be soothing) and ones that are all natural (whatever the hell that shit means) but none of them have done much except further inflame and/or dry my skin. That burning sensation around my eyes is especially comforting, I find.

In Sunday’s paper I noticed a coupon for Aveeno™ body lotions. I knew they made bath stuff for itchy skin (“Ahhhhhh, Aveeno”) but didn’t realize they had developed a whole skin care line. In addition to that coupon, I had a coupon for $6 in “Extra Bucks” from CVS, my favorite store. (Am I the only one who can’t seem to get out of that place for less than 30 bucks? It’s almost as bad as Costco, just with smaller quantities.) Woo hoooooo, said I. Free stuff-with-skin-soothing-
properties-that-will-magically-make-the-itchies-and-flakies-go-away-
forever! So I bought a vat o’ their body lotion and a trough o' their face cream last night and immediately slathered the stuff all over me. (Well, I did that as soon as I got home. I do try to maintain some level of decorum.) And I slathered on some more after my shower this morning.

So far I’m not so itchy, and the flaking skin, while still apparent, has diminished somewhat. There’s no burning sensation on my face, I am happy to report. (Yeah, I know, it’s still killing you. Har. Now shut up.) Perhaps even more significantly, there has been no inappropriate booby scratching in my office thus far today, at least on my part. To the extent that one person can be a reliable test group, I’d say the stuff works pretty well thus far. I will be monitoring the results and promise to keep you all posted on my crumbling façade. And if you happen to see a tall bespectacled chick zipping by you today whose face appears to be falling off in chunks, please wave and say “hi.” Flakes are people, too, y’know.

I just hung up from a phone call in which the mother of a student poured out her tale of woe about how she can’t pay her daughter’s tuition bill. Her daughter is on five shots of insulin per day and can’t be upset with the news that she won’t be allowed to register for the upcoming semester unless the bill is paid. Mom doesn’t know when they’ll be able to finish the payments but she’s plugging away despite the MRI she (mom) needs to have tomorrow which will determine if the car accident she was in last month has caused an aneurysm which may necessitate open heart surgery.

I can’t make this one okay, and it’s not only because the medical circumstances are beyond my control. I spoke with this mom for well over an hour, and what I spent much of that time telling her (in between long quiet patches where I just listened) was why I can’t make her administrative problems go away. There are a whole host of reasons in this specific case that I can’t and won’t go into that make it even more complex, but even though this is a good student and a nice mom who I do believe will eventually pay the bill, this one isn’t going away. The student won’t be permitted to register until the bill is paid in full, at which point not only will most of the classes she needs be closed, but then the next semester’s bill will be due immediately and she will almost instantly be at risk for eviction from her dorm room for nonpayment.

I really care about helping people. It’s the reason I went to law school and, ultimately, the reason I opted not to practice law despite completing my degree. It’s the reason I work patiently and compassionately with college students and their parents, regularly helping them navigate some of the most challenging emotional crises of their lives to date. It’s the reason I participate in the community activities I do; it’s the reason I volunteer my services as a legal observer at protests or as an envelope stuffer for certain organizations; it’s also the reason I hold many of the social justice ideals that I feel so passionately about.

It’s not the reason that I spend the extra time talking with a parent or student in crisis. Often, I feel their pain so vividly that I want to hug them or cry with them. Sometimes I do both of those things. It’s also not the reason I spend time talking with or hugging close a friend to support them as they work through the typical -- or extraordinary -- circumstances of their lives. That I do because I love each of them as individuals and would do just about anything to take away their pain, just as most of them would do -- and have done -- for me on more occasions than I like to ponder. I feel their pain as if it were my own. I hold them tightly in my arms to try to absorb some of that pain into myself, in hopes that it will lessen their load, in the belief that I am somehow more capable of tolerating it than they may be themselves. And I am blessed to have people who take some of my hurt onto themselves as well, who hug me and kiss me and smooth my hair when I can’t hold it together. When I let them.

I’m not sure why I needed to write this today. The truth is that I started writing parts of this post several hours before that phone conversation with the distraught mother. I think, maybe, I could just really use a tight I-really-mean-it kind of hug right now. And afterwards, I wouldn’t mind it if somebody held me gently and smoothed my hair, too.

Confidential to the guy jogging past me at lunch hour today:

DUDE! Tie that package down, wouldja? Nobody wants to see you bouncing around inside your sweats, no matter how fabulously hugely endowed you may be. Seriously. Ew.

(And doesn't that hurt anyway? *shudder*)

I feel like the Red Sox just lost the World Series.

I just realized that, although I requested a change of address form from the Board of Elections when I moved, and I got the form at my new address, I never actually completed the simple little form. So I have to go to my old neighborhood to vote tonight. I am such an idiot.

Sigh.

If you do nothing else today, please be sure to vote in the presidential election (if you are eligible to do so). 'Cause if you don't, I refuse to listen to you bitch and moan about the sad state of our government/country. If you DO vote, however, I encourage all the bitching and moaning you can possibly muster.

Just not around me.

What? Are you still here? What did I tell you? Go and vote already! Shoo!

Sometimes I wonder whether people think things through at all. I mean, besides the example of Curt Schilling, well, shilling for Bush (um, dude, you're an awesome pitcher and you seem like a wicked nice guy but take your advice about who should run the free world? Uh, no), there's the example Jen gave today about online dating profiles and how they sometimes come across (presumably unintentionally) as inconsistent and/or vapid, and there's also the situation of people saying things that they surely couldn't mean, right to your face. Or if they do mean it, I can only surmise that they are just naive, ignorant, rude, threatened and/or self-involved.

"You'd better not lose any more weight. You'll be smaller than me!" (And that would be wrong how?)

"It's great that you're so self-sufficient. You'll never need a guy in your life." (I certainly don't expect a guy to do everything for me and I'm appalled at the suggestion that that's all one might need or want a man for. Being self-sufficient has absolutely nothing, in my mind, to do with whether I might like to share my life with a responsible, loving man.)

"Don't ever allow yourself to have more than one or two cats unless you're coupled up. A single straight woman with lots of cats, well, she's just given up." (Okay, I've said this to myself and others, actually. It's cruel, but you know I'm right. It's like a guy wearing sweat pants out of the house as if they were actual clothes. Just sad.)

"You have beautiful hands, and your nails are perfect. Are they fake?" (Um, thank you, I think, but no. WTF? How would you like it if I said, "You have a great rack. Are they real?")

"I'm having a GREAT time! You're the most fascinating woman I've gone out with since moving to Boston. [Beat.] But I think I'd like to be friends." (Or "I'm getting back together with my ex" is another popular one. Do I drive them away or what?!)

"My brother can't seem to get his act together. He's an asshole to his girlfriends, he can't hold down a job, and he's living with our parents. He's going to be in town this weekend. Hey, you're single. You want me to fix you guys up?" (No, but thanks for thinking of me. Really. Freak.)