Merry Christmas! I know I said I wouldn't be posting, but we had a rousing Note Game this morning, and I had to share some of the more inventive clues with you. (For those of you not in the know, the Note Game was invented by my mother and is more or less how I learned how to read. My mother would write me a note that was a clue telling me where to find my next note, then when I found that note, I wrote a note back, and so forth. Christmas Note Game, obviously, involves finding presents rather than additional notes. As Adam wisely pointed out, Santa may never have come to my house, but instead we were visited by the Riddler.)

Anyhow, the first clue today was:

Cleanliness is next to godliness, but where are the towels? (Bathroom cupboard.)

That led to:

If clues are keys, then your next clue is the skeleton key. (Mouse skeleton in my great-aunts' basement.)

Back home, we had:

You may have to go to Santa Barbara or Montreal or even Port Rutherford to find your next present. (This one threw us--they were all places my family went on vacation, so we first tried the photo albums, then the road atlas. Finally we found our present in the map drawer.)

And then:

Well, where would you look for a present on Christmas morning? (Under the Christmas tree, obviously--which is in a box in the garage.)

And finally, the stumper, originally written by my father:

Your last present goes to some length to dwell in very modest surroundings. (We got nowhere with this.)

After a few hours my mother took pity and presented us with her clue for the same location:

Here is a clue
That is almost true:
If you are Lees (my mother's family)
You have one of these.

(Under one of the snack tables from the golf course, obviously! It took about ten seconds once I got this. My dad's clue was referring to the excessively long tablecloth on the snack table, as it turns out.)

And now we're going to open our last remaining presents, visit my grandma probably, and have Indian dinner. Tomorrow we're on the road to Princeton. My family (well, the ones who can hear, at least) got great merriment out of hearing Robbie say to Adam just now, "Yeah, Dad said he thought there would have been a lot more fighting last night if it wasn't for the Scotch," so it sounds like we're all having nice traditional Christmases, and I hope you all are too.

I have the Holiday Stress, which, I find, is like Santa Claus in reverse: as a child I believed it to be a silly fiction invented by parents, but this year I've learned that it's entirely real. I had to leave the elliptical this afternoon and come home and sit quietly on the sofa because I was having what could, I think, variously be diagnosed as a panic attack, a quasi-fainting spell, or, most likely, a reaction to not sleeping or eating enough since Tuesday, but the point is this: it's time for a vacation.

So, I'm starting mine. Merry Christmas to everyone (many of you in the traditional sense, some of you in the do-they-have-Fourth-of-July-in-other-countries? sense), and possibly Happy New Year as well. I'm out.

Well, the JCC nudity problem just keeps getting worse. Today after my workout I went into the locker room to discover two entirely unclothed women in front of my locker doing absolutely nothing at all, just chatting. In all fairness, these women were clearly way, way hotter in, say, 1975 than I've ever been ever, but this is the oughts now, and none of us should be sporting about chatting in the nude.

Anyhow, I was so thrown that I could barely direct them to stop leaning on my locker so that I could get my sweatpants, and then one of them said, moderately apologetically, "Here we are standing around naked like we're in college," and naturally, I replied, "You know, I never stood around naked in college," and how such a lie rolled off my tongue when there's snow on the ground, yet, I do not know. (Perhaps I can excuse myself on the technicality of wearing shoes and a hat. And also, I was running.) Anyhow, the other one said "Well, you sure missed out," and right there, I think I may have made their day. (Especially since I did not then say "Yeah, that's what my mom always said.") Then they ran off to the sauna to discuss their misspent youth, and I put on my sweatpants. Over my shorts. The JCC is turning me into a never-nude, I fear.

Other than that, I'm just going to level with you here--today was not so great. (Frankly, the JCC nudity was not so great either, but at least it was bloggable.) I don't want to work this week, I just want to bang on my drum all day in Little Drummer Boy fashion, and also, in the space of twenty minutes today I went from having no presents left to buy, a state I've been in for the last two weeks, to having five, all procrastinated on by other members of my family for yet other members of my family. And present-related chaos is also breaking out among the Sedgewicks, who all apparently already have what we bought them. (Except for Brett. I cannot stress this point enough.) Next year, I'm just buying everyone a poverty heifer, except for Amy, but you better believe I'll find something she won't like too.

Oh well. A week from now I'll be at the Sedgewicks' with all 2004 familial gift exchanges sinking into cherished memories, being stuffed with pate like an inverted goose, and in merely ten days I'll be in DC, hiding onions for Dr. J where she least expects them and basking in the warm glow of spending time with my loved ones, the apples of my heart, who couldn't be arsed to comment on yesterday's rare sentimental entry. And tomorrow I'm going to go buy some champagne for New Year's, at least some of which will probably last past the walk home, and I fully predict a return to merriment in tomorrow's blog entry.

First off, I'd like to wish a very happy birthday to my father-in-law. I feel a little bad for him having to take 58 shots and all, but the law's the law, and I'm sure he'll get through it with aplomb. And, in other birth-related news, I finished the baby blanket for Robbie's officemate's baby last night, and just in the nick of time, too, because he was due today and may be induced tomorrow. In my usual childless, judgmental, waiting-for-karma-to-bite-me style, I generally disapprove of inductions that close to the due date, but the mother is extremely petite, so I think it's wise to not let him stay in there too long, embiggening himself.

Remember that productivity I talked about earlier today? Well, it all fell to a shambles when Heather got online, but naturally it was worth it. Not only did we get to discuss the greatest Which Would You Rather? of all time--my former Mormon neighbor, known as Hemor, or a revolting young man from our old church who we refer to as "Pieface"? Things to consider: Hemor is actually kind of good-looking, Pieface has religious convictions more in the general ballpark of ours, both are seriously in need of a beating personality-wise--but she sent me a picture of the Buebbeseses' new settee, which you can see here.

(Ha! That's just a little joke Margaret Mitchell taught me. You can see the actual settee by going here.)

And finally, I'd just like to say, again, that I'm whipped into a fever pitch over the upcoming holidays. For Christmas we're having Indian food and I'm very happy about that, and then we get to go to Robbie's parents' and see a Broadway show and get driven around by AJ, and then we get to go to DC for New Year's Rockin' Eve, and you all already know how excited I am about that. Man. Heather and I were talking about this today, and I realize that this veers well into a sentimentality I normally avoid in my blog, but I am just so ridiculously happy about the people I feel like I've gotten much closer to this year (thanks, I think, to the twin miracles of instant messaging and frequent-flyer miles), and to actually end the year with every blessed one of them there is a great thing. Especially because (and I don't want you to think that I'm presenting this as a quirky feature when I actually do recognize it to be a flaw), I think that I regard most people with a sort of pleasant neutral goodwill, and being closer to them than that requires a sort of massive switch to be flipped somewhere, and I feel like that switch was flipped more than usual this year, only, obviously, when I say that I mean something that doesn't actually sound rampantly obscene. The point is this: I'm really, really excited, even if Amy and Big T have to throw down. Perhaps even especially then.

I realize that due to my lack of bloggernation, some of you might fear that I've perished in Pittsburgh's cold snap, which I understand is making national news. But no, I'm fine. In fact, I just walked the half-block to the dry cleaner's wearing only socks, hiking boots, flannel-lined pants, a long-sleeved shirt, two sweaters, a wool coat, a scarf, a hat, and gloves the thickness of oven mitts, and except for my nose, for which I will need to find a prosthetic substitute soon, I was pretty comfortable.

And now it's back to work for me. I'm not exactly sure why I volunteered to work more or less a full work week, but the fact that Adam isn't online is admittedly bringing my productivity to epic levels, so that's something.

As it turns out, my blogger's block was short-lived, because today is the most exciting day on our block ever, more exciting even than when the National City Bank was robbed for the second time in a week, and I'm teeming with bloggable information.

So Robbie came home from the gym this morning, which I'd skipped out on because I couldn't get to sleep last night for thinking maybe I should start going to church again and also mentally composing a reply to my mother's second cousin who sent her a terribly rude Christmas card yesterday, and he said that someone had pulled the fire alarm at the JCC and everyone had been evacuated. He said they'd evacuated the Senior Water Aerobics class right out of the 85-degree pool and onto the sidewalk, so he was pretty sure it wasn't a drill.

So, being good busybodies, we went over to our window and watched for a while waiting for the fire trucks, but instead, the police just shut off our street and shunted all traffic, car and foot, away from the JCC end of our block, which was a bit perplexing. After some careful eavesdropping, we heard the police officer say that there was a possible bomb in the post office, which is just past the JCC, and then the helicopters started hovering, and then, best of all, the police officer yelled "Freeze!" at someone who kept walking towards the post office after being told not to, and man, was it ever exciting. As someone who becomes instantly overstimulated by any sort of public excitement, and also as someone who'd drunk two cups of coffee while hanging out the window watching the police, I was whipped into a near-frenzy. If I were a dog, I would have chased my own tail for about half an hour, but instead, I just IMed everyone I knew.

These sorts of things make me realize, though, that in another era I would totally be the woman in curlers with a cup of coffee hanging out the window watching the street. (Especially since, minus the curlers, that's more or less what I was doing this morning.) Before we moved onto our street I always thought that was a strange archetype, but now that there's actually things going on out there all the time (though rarely are they this exciting), I can see where those women were coming from.

And now I've learned that the bomb scare is over. Apparently the bomb was not a bomb, but an "audio device." I suppose that's for the best, especially now that I've extracted all the bloggable information from it that I could, but now I'm wondering how I'm going to spend the rest of the day. I guess there's always working...

Well, folks, I have an unexpected case of blogger's block, and was unable to persuade Robbie to guest-blog, so you're not getting anything until tomorrow morning, when I'll give it another try.

Well, we're back from another excellent all-Ivy happy hour. (Now there's a phrase that makes me sound totally unappealing. But really, it was fun.) We got invited to another party (a party with actual printed invitations, at that), and my blog got at least one other new reader, so let's give a big friendly Jessica Sedgewick's Blog welcome to Rebecca from downstairs (who, I hasten to point out, is not Puking Neighbor, but is now up to speed on my Puking Neighbor suspicions). Also, there is a clamoring from various quarters for Robbie's dad to start handing out autographed copies of his book. Sure, it's not the blind rock-star adulation that people had for my own dad after watching the sinus simulator video, but it's something nonetheless. (I would like to point out that originally here I had a long riff on Robbie's father that I meant very complimentarily, but that Robbie nonetheless vetoed. So you can blame him if this paragraph ends without the punch--the Zyng!, if you will--that you were hoping for.)

Other than kicking it overprivileged-style, today I worked and went to the gym, and talked to Heather about our New Year's plans. I don't know, maybe it was my dream about the ProVital, but for the past couple of days I've been really excited about getting to spend part of the holidays in DC with Heather and Matt and Dr. J and Big T, and also Adam and Brett, and also obviously Amy, and also the fifteen people that Amy will have with her for New Year's. (I've been hearing for a while that Amy's bringing fifteen people to DC for the weekend, but I've never really gotten any clarity about who exactly these fifteen people are, and I've been having a good time imagining. Underprivileged youths? The flight crew of a 747? Manchester United? The mind reels.) Given how relentlessly I've been looking forward to it, I really think that the only way this can end is for an unlikely pair of these people--I'm going with Big T and Amy here--to develop an uncontrollable murderous dislike for each other.

Okay, I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I'm going to my mom's for cookie-baking, and it's best to be well rested for that.

Well, I shoveled snow this morning. I get paid every time I shovel, in the sense that money gets knocked off our rent, and I figured out today that if I can shovel only 47 times in a given month, we'll be living completely rent-free, plus my arms will turn all Popeye-like and I'll be able to lift burning buildings over my head. It's going to be a great winter, I can just tell.

Other than gnawing away at the rent, I worked a lot today and did laundry, and wrapped Christmas presents. (Obviously, Brett's present nearly wiped us out of paper.) I think nearly all the presents I've ordered have been delivered, except for Dr. J's, which I fear will not arrive in time, even though it's being shipped to Heather's house. Oh, and one for my mother will probably also be late, although that's less of an issue because it doesn't eventually have to make its way to the Muensterland.

And speaking of the Muensterland, I had a delightful dream last night that I was back visiting Dr. J and Big T, with Heather this time, and the four of us (and Robbie and Matt too, I think) were going to the ProVital, where I was scheduled to join a swimming contest. Ulla was carpooling with us and I was startled to discover that she'd pierced her lower lip with a big thorny thing, kind of like the one customizer in "Pimp My Ride." (For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, Ulla is married to Big T's friend and aspires to be the German Martha Stewart, pre-incarceration. The last time I had a dream about her, she was lowering herself into my apartment on a rope to steal the master spreadsheet that I was using to coordinate the Dr. J/Big T wedding. She's a lovely person and there's no reason for her to occupy such an obscure and unfriendly corner of my psyche, but evidently she does.) I woke up before the contest actually took place, though, so I have no results for you all to analyze.

And now, to bed I go.

Four days since I've posted, and yet nothing has happened. Let's see. Friday I spent most of the day trying to work and failing, because I needed to use an online source that's subscription-only, and there's only one site license, and someone else snapped it up before I could get to it. (To be fair, I usually profit from the fact that I'm three hours ahead, time-zone-wise, of everyone else who needs the license, and thus can get to it and hold on to it before they're even facing the rosy-fingered dawn, so I suppose it's reasonable that sometimes it doesn't go my way.)

Then Saturday I actually did the work that I meant to do on Friday, and also worked on this baby blanket for Robbie's officemate. It's almost done, which is lucky, because the baby's due next Monday. I mean, not that the baby can't survive for a few days without the joy of chenille, but I doubt the officemate will be in to receive gifts for a while after the baby arrives. Yesterday we went to the gym, and then my parents came over for wine-tasting and dinner and we introduced them to the joys of "Arrested Development," and then Robbie and I stayed up late to work on his applications. Whoever came up with the idea of several sequential two-year postdoctoral appointments should be severely beaten, and I'm not even the one bearing most of the stress of applications. I honestly feel like we just did this, although then you would expect us to have saved some moving boxes, which is not at all the case.

Then today I had a doctor's appointment which my mother very graciously drove me to, and after receiving a clean bill of health, I came home and shoveled the stairs and sidewalks, because we had our first bona fide snow accumulation while I was at the hospital. It was very pretty, but given how I felt about the snow by last March, I'm sure that's a temporary emotion. Then I took a nap--between the applications and the doctor's visit, I got very little sleep last night--and then I went to coffee with my high school friend, and then I worked for a while and IMed Heather, most of which I spent trying very unsuccessfully to find a photo of the ugly flowery pants from The Limited that everyone bought in the fall of 1989. Then I stayed up far, far too late again (you'll notice that it's past one in the morning now) playing The Sims. The Strangewicks have a second story on their house now and an inground pool. I have the definite feeling they're not planning to move every two years.

Oh, and I saw the funniest thing today. My appointment was at the major women's hospital in the city (where I myself was born, in fact), and when we first got into the hospital my mother and I noticed a guy coming in with an empty carseat, and then after my appointment we saw him, his wife, a new baby, and some nurses all working on the carseat and the bundling and the fussing and the whole concept, and it was very cute, and so we watched them for a while. And then a minute later I went outside to call Robbie and saw another family, mom and dad and new baby and another child who was maybe two or three, going to their car parked under the portico, and the mom just sort of left the carseat on the curb to load her older child into the car while the dad put the bags in, and there were no nurses with them, and this family was as blase as could be. They had the baby all bundled up, of course, which seemed sensible considering the blizzard-like conditions, but other than that, they seemed entirely unconcerned by the prospect of calamity. I guess that's what happens with additional children.

I did nothing today except work for twelve hours and, while working, discuss Amy's Christmas presents with Brett, Brett's Christmas presents with Adam, and a taxonomy of people named Rob that she might meet at Brett's party, A Very Angles Christmas, with Heather. I didn't bathe, I didn't change, I didn't do the dishes. It was a fine day, and it's really amazing what can be accomplished in twelve hours, even when those twelve hours are liberally sprinkled with holiday-themed conversation.

Wait, no, I did do one other thing--I went down to pick up some packages from the UPS guy. Heather, Matt, my mom, Robbie's mom, Robbie's dad, and Big T can all rest easy now, because I have it on good authority that Santa will be bringing them each at least one gift on his magical sleigh of delight. (Sorry. I never believed in Santa when I was growing up, a trauma I will relate to you all at a later date closer to the big holiday, and so I think out of inexperience I may err into talking about him like he's a whore, which is pretty much what my parents thought of him, anyhow.) Brett can also rest easy, if by "rest easy" I mean "his present is about three times as large and heavy as we were expecting." Start on the bicep curls now, Brett. You'll be glad you did.

And finally, I'd just like to officially apologize for my alma mater, which has imposed on the world both Jen from The Apprentice and now this. On the other hand, it's a relief to finally find out what they need all our money for--those electric bills aren't going to pay themselves, you know.

Hmmm, so Danielle is the winner? Fear not, I do have something planned, but it involves retrieving some materials from my parents' house, which, because my mother doesn't know where anything is and can't remember where she put anything and has she told you lately about her bad memory?, has to wait until my father gets home, and rest assured that I am working on it but that it'll take a little while.

Today I made cookies with my mother and got my hair cut and had dinner with Robbie's faux-advisor, and it was all lovely but I have a splitting headache now, so I think I'm going to go to bed. I may not even floss beforehand, that's how bad my headache is. Caution is thrown to the wind regularly around here, as you can see.

First off, mad props to the Buebbeseses, who to my knowledge do not even read this blog but still deserve mad props, for buying a condo. And by "mad props," I mean, obviously, "I'd kidnap you both and keep you in my pantry for the next decade if it meant I could buy a condo instead of you, but since it's probably not a zero-sum game, you rock on with your bad selves."

And now, on to my day. More or less, I just worked all day and then went to the gym, which was good, but I have a theological question for you all. Around the track at the gym is a painted series of murals of people working out, running, lifting weights, et cetera, in a caricature-y style, and it's kind of cute and gives you something to look at, which is sorely needed considering that there are 15 laps in a mile, but one of the people in the mural--how should I put this?--I think he might be God. He has long white hair, a flowing beard, and a sickle, and he's sort of admonishing a jogger in a deity-like fashion, and he's wearing a tank top and pink running shorts. Could it be Moses? The Methodist church isn't really big into pictures of Moses, so I guess I never thought too much growing up about what he looked like, other than "old," and this really looks like the Judeo-Christian God to me, but surely a religion that thinks it's blasphemous to speak the name of God wouldn't create a graven image of him dressed like Richard Simmons, right? But then, is it right to do that to the Lord's prophet? Someone has to help me here.

And finally, our puking downstairs neighbor got a big packet from a daycare center today. I'm so totally Batman, I can't even get over myself. (I should specify here that I'm not Batman the way that Amy is Batman--I mean, I don't have a giant chomping yellow head or anything. I am merely very skilled.)

Well, this was a lovely weekend, and not only because I was celebrating the joy that is Matt Lippert. Friday night we went to see The Incredibles, which I highly recommend to the two or three of you who haven't seen it, and then Saturday I mostly worked on this assignment that I thought was due tomorrow, but ended up--surprise!--being due today. Yesterday we went out to dim sum, which was really, really good, and then I wanted to work out, but I'm still having a bit of hard time breathing during exertion because of my cold last week, so I decided to walk around the indoor track at the JCC instead. It was pretty fun, even though I was, conservatively, forty years younger than the next youngest walker, and there was a very entertaining youth basketball game going on below me, so I ended up walking four miles, which isn't too shabby. And then we ordered pizza, and watched "Arrested Development," and all in all it was an outstanding day.

Today I finished up the bios and a proofreading assignment, did reams of laundry, and worked on the special Christmas present that I mentioned last week. Yesterday I actually finished up my Christmas shopping (well, we still need to find a few presents for Robbie's family, but everyone that is clearly my domain is bought for, and the friends we'll exchange gifts with are bought for as well), so I feel pleasantly non-stressed about the holidays, other than finishing up the one present I'm working on, which is almost done anyhow. Oh, and I got a massive assignment and another, smaller assignment for the next three weeks, which should finish the year on a busy but lucrative note, so that's very good news. And the last good news of the day is that AJ got his driver's license. I feel compelled to crack some get-off-the-roads joke here but, unfortunately, he's actually a good driver, so I really can't. And I'm not just saying that because I'm hoping he'll go out and get Hoagie Haven for me over Christmas. (Although I'd certainly not say no to it, obviously.)

And now, the time when I reveal the runner-up in the 20,000th visitor prize. As you'll recall, this prize was supposed to go to the person who visited the most times between 19,900 and 20,000. Unfortunately, the winner appears to be my one regular visitor whom I can't identify because their domain name is blocked--I only have an IP address, and looking it up was fruitless. So, if you are in the eastern time zone and visited my blog today four times, first at about 11 and last at about 7, and you aren't Robbie, Ted, Heather, Matt Lippert, Courtney, or JR, speak now or forever hold your peace.

And here is the promised companion post. I'm sure that many of you out there have had your interest in Matt Lippert piqued in recent days, what with this whole Blog-For-A-Day thing, and you're probably wondering how such a shining example of humanity spends his time. Obviously, I can't answer this question directly; he lives in Kentucky. However, as you may have guessed by now, I was able to do the next best thing: I observed his alter-ego, Matt Madmoney, for a full Sim-day, letting him free-run, just like Margaret Mead or Jane Goodall would have done, and took careful notes, which I now present to you.

6:00 am: Rises with alarm. In fine mood--three green bars.
6:39 am: After shaking off the morning sleepies, diligently makes his side of the bed, then Courtney's.
6:52 am: Goes downstairs, trying not to gloat that his is the only Sim-house in the neighborhood with an upper story.
7:02 am: Tactfully blurred toilet time.
7:23 am: Begins seven minutes of handwashing. Observer wonders if she perhaps made Matt Madmoney too fastidious.
7:36 am: A thought bubble: snack.
7:46 am: Tossing aside all notions of a healthy breakfast, and failing to notice that Courtney is lovingly preparing breakfast for the two of them, eats a bag of chips. Carefully throws away bag. Is the only Sim in the whole neighborhood who would bother.
8:06 am: As the carpool horn sounds, changes into his suit and hurries off to his job as a political lobbyist.
3:00 pm: Back from work. Has earned 360 simoleons and is feeling good. Has two priorities: 1) Grab plate, 2) Receive backrub from Courtney. Carpool runs into a bit of bad code and honks horn ineffectually at Courtney's bungee-jump carpool for ten minutes.
3:31 pm: Sits down at dining table with heaping plate of food.
3:57 pm: After waiting around annoyedly for Matt to finish his food, Courtney retracts her backrub offer and stomps off to the shower. Matt continues to eat, placidly.
4:15 pm: Clears table and does dishes. Observer muses that Matt is totally the most metrosexual of all her Sims.
4:33 pm: Goes into bathroom, where Courtney is finishing up her shower. Probably hoping to distract him from the fact that she's flooded the bathroom, Courtney presents him with a gift.
5:01 pm: Showers. Courtney stands outside the shower forlornly, waiting to hug him.
5:23 pm: Courtney gives up on shower, heads to bed.
5:33 pm: Out of the shower, thinks "sofa." Sits in WASPy manner, leg crossed over knee.
5:57 pm: Remembers the television, tunes to romance. Despite the fact that he's still wearing his lobbyist's suit, he is comfortable and having fun.
6:50 pm: Tactfully blurred toilet time. Is visibly depressed by puddle left after Courtney's shower.
7:18 pm: Begins six minutes of handwashing.
7:37 pm: Turns off television, heads to bed.
8:09 pm: Falls asleep. Dreams, in order, of soccer, Courtney, an Egyptian mask, a car, soccer, and Courtney.
2:49 am: Courtney gets up and heads off to the bathroom, probably to flood it again. Matt mumbles but does not wake up.
3:27 am: Another REM period. Dreams of Courtney and mountains. Screams in sleep.
3:55 am: Courtney snacking. Matt is still asleep.
4:09 am: Still snoring. Courtney is bathing again. An outstandingly hygienic couple.
5:22 am: As the birds start to chirp, Courtney softscrubs the shower. Matt is still snoring.
6:00 am: Up again!

I wanted to drive to Kentucky today, sneak into Matt Lippert's house, and take photos to post here, but then I had to work and all, so this will have to do. Note the joy with which Matt and Courtney Madmoney are dancing together, despite the fact that Courtney dances in an odd, painful hoedown style and Matt appears to be doing the frug. Note that despite their established romantic relationship, they continue to dress up for each other, even for an evening dancing in front of the television and the birds of paradise. And finally, note the workout equipment out on the patio, necessary for Courtney in her work as a bungee jump instructor.

I have a companion entry to this one, but for that you'll need to wait until tomorrow.

Oh, hey, look, it's 4:51 and I've just finished working. This really threw a monkey wrench in my Day Of Matt, which I regret deeply, and so to compensate, I'm extending Matt Appreciation until the end of the day tomorrow, and passing the savings on to you. So come back tomorrow, or possibly this evening, to view the wonderful treasures in store for you then.

And here we are, Matting it up. Watch this space all day for more Matt updates. Matt-dates. Mupdates. I have to work, but nonetheless I have some big things planned.

We have a winner, and the winner is:

Matt Lippert!

To celebrate this hard-won achievement, I hereby declare tomorrow, December 3, to be the official Matt Lippert Day here. For 24 hours only, this blog will become Matt-tastic, completely Matt-ified, totally Matt-ed over. It should be a sight to behold.

(And yes, one of you gets the runner-up prize, but that involves actual counting, so it's taking me longer. The runner-up will be revealed after our Day of Matt, and will receive a suitable runner-up prize, akin to, but probably not actually, an Amana refrigerator.)

Well, today was, frankly, not as hot a party as I'd anticipated. I woke up early because the wind was whistling down the alleyway between our house and the house next door and anyhow my throat hurt, and after considering for a while whether the listing chimney on the house next door would actually land on my half of the bed if it were to collapse, I got up and called my mom to cancel our cookie-baking event due to my throatache. It turned out that Ethel was having some medical problems anyhow, so we canceled the whole day's festivities. It was probably for the best--I felt pretty rotten, anyhow.

So, despite the fact that I was sick and the History Channel was having Vendetta Day, I actually got some work done. Not much, mind you, but some. I also put some Christmas presents in my Amazon cart (I'm unsure of some of them, so no purchases were actually made), discussed New Year's dinner with Heather, and got started on a handmade Christmas present for one of you. I don't want to specify who, but I'll assure you that, at least so far, it's the most beautiful gift ever. So let's all hope I don't muck it up tragically between now and then. I also took an outstanding nap.

Once I'm over this cold and the ensuing mental fog, I'll have you know that I'm planning to unveil some exciting blog events during pre-holiday December. Not only will we have the gala awards banquet for the 20,000th visitor, but I'm working on a year-end report called The State of the Jess, hopefully with pie charts, and, of course, the first annual Jessica Sedgewick's Bloggies. It's not to be missed, so don't.