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Wednesday, Dec. 11, 2002 - 3:10 p.m.

The holiday season is so short

I just took Casey home at lunchtime because she has a fever and it's better that she rest now, what with the company holiday party tomorrow and our plans to go to D.C. for the weekend. I managed to eat lunch at home which was nice because I got to watch Family Feud and then brush my teeth right afterwards. But I did that too fast because I forgot to take the honkin' vitamin C disk, which is about the size of a quarter, but chewable. I managed to chew it enough to swallow the big chunks and not get too much of that icky taste you get when you drink orange juice after brushing your teeth. Ick. But all I want to do know is be home with her bundled up on the couch beneath a cozy blanket.

Instead, I forged on through the rain and returned to work. Although I was told to "make it quick" at lunch because we're trying to close like 30 pages today so that we can all leave early tomorrow for the party, I've done no work since I got back because there's nothing for me right now. Ridiculous.

Also ridiculous is this office. Monday, it was freezing. So yesterday, I decided to wear my flannel-lined slacks from L.L. Bean. And I was roasting. This morning was fine, but when I returned from lunch, I could swear they turned on the air conditioning while I was out. No wonder Casey's sick. I might not be far behind (hence the preventative vitamin C and zinc earlier). "You probably shouldn't be kissing me," she said as we waited for the elevator in the parking deck. "Of course, you live with me, so you're probably fucked anyway." I replied with the smart-ass retort: "Not if you're sick, I'm not."

There are two times a year I wonder how I'd do as a teacher. One is in the summertime, when I'd like nothing more than a few months off to do with as I please. The other is December. I understand the working world and how the week between Christmas and New Year's isn't a holiday and in order to have it off, you've got to use vacation days. Heck, I worked two Christmas days over the past four years. But looking ahead to the rest of this month and all I have to do and how tight my free time is, I yearn just a little for those days when my biggest concerns this time of year were finals. Because they were all over around the 20th, leaving an entire week before Christmas to unwind, then an entire week after it to goof off, then a new year to start fresh.

I think my problem is that I want to spend time with everybody around this time of year. Part of that comes from how we've all spread out over the years. Matt returns from Seattle once a year: for about two weeks around Christmas. He'll arrive before the weekend of the 20th, so hopefully we'll spend some quality time together that weekend, but once Christmas comes, I'll see little of him before he leaves on the 29th because I'll be working, then I'll be gone the following weekend. It's not a bad problem to have � to be liked and loved and admired by so many equally deserving people � but when you isolate them and think, "Oh, I'm only going to see Matt two of the days he's here," that kind of skews the outlook.

It took me about a day working at a weekly magazine to realize why Sports Illustrated, for one, puts out a double issue at the end of the year: It's so that they can have a day or two off for Christmas. We're putting out a year-end double issue so that we're not swamped by taking Christmas Day and New Year's Day off. There are even rumors that our managing editor is trying to fanagle the schedule to get us all of Christmas Eve off. And if we have to come in, we'll likely be released early, as we were the day before Thanksgiving. Same goes for New Year's Eve. I'll take whatever we can get, even if it's nothing more than what we're already promised. It's just nice to know that I'm off on the actual holidays, rather than waiting to see how the days fall each year, what with how my schedule often changed when the fall sports season began. And on weekends, which means that next year, with Christmas on a Thursday, we'll have the four-day weekend, as we likely might for New Year's 2004. Wow, that seems so far away.

���

There's this one guy I share a cubicle wall with whom I overheard on the phone this morning. And he was sobbing. From what I gathered from other phone calls, someone died unexpectedly, found in his or her home by the police. He broke down on the phone but managed to keep himself somewhat together; I could definitely tell there was the potential for desk-shaking sobbing. The thing is, I've never really talked directly to the guy, no one-on-one, face-to-face discussions of anything. He does photo work; I check facts. Rarely would our paths cross. I've had one short exchange with him, but that was while we sat at our desks, hidden from one another's view.

I didn't know what, if anything, I should do. Nobody else approached him, and it doesn't sound like he's shared his family tragedy with anyone in the office. For all I know, I may be the only one here who knows. And he doesn't even know I know. I talk little on my phone at work, so I'm usually sitting here rather quietly, just doing my job. And surfing the internet. And composing diary entries. But that's neither here nor there.

Anyway, he seems fine now. I hope it wasn't too traumatizing.

���

Casey and I passed the Bada Bing last night on our way to and from Clifton to drop her car off. I spotted Satin Dolls from I-80 on the way west, and when we returned in the same car, I pointed it out to here again. The marquee currently reads, "Home of Tony Soprano's Bada Bing. All NFL games Sundays," or something to that effect. There's another Sopranos location for my bedpost. Or something.

���

Heather and I have cursed ourselves with our John Madden Sex-A-Strator� comments the other day. Now we can't watch football without thinking of Madden's comments as innuendo. And we took it to new lows today ...

DAN:
So I was just thinking how I don't know if I'll ever be able to watch MNF the same again � without thinking of John Madden's comments as innuendo.

HEATHER:
It's funny because I was thinking the same thing. Football is pretty insane like that. Imagine if John Madden did basketball. "I've never seen someone dribble so much."

DAN:
Or golf: "No matter what he does, he can't seem to get the ball into the hole."

HEATHER:
Or badminton: "The way he smashes that shuttlecock is awe-inspiring." Except Madden wouldn't use syllables like that. We're naughty.

DAN:
Seriously. How about synchronized swimming? "She can go down and stay there for as long as she needs to."

HEATHER:
"Wow, it's wet in there!"

DAN:
Water polo: "It's got to be hard to keep your head above water and keep a good grip on that ball all at the same time."

Yeah, I'm like 14.

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