Pseudonymous kid got sent home today b/c he was sick, sick, sick. Fever + puking every fifteen minutes. Now he is watching "101 Dalmations" with the bucket by the side of the bed (remember the bucket by the side of the bed?) and Mr. B. went out to the store to spend our last $15 on ginger ale and cigarettes (ok, those are for me, and I am a bad, bad, bad human being). This one-income shit is for the birds, man, especially during the holiday season. Then again, I get to feel all morally virtuous in that I bought nothing for "Buy Nothing Day," nor over the weekend. Not out of virtue, though. Just b/c I have no damn money. It's gonna be gifts-for-the-kids-only this year, man. There are so many cousins and godsons....

Luckily, my niece is now of the age when girls want nothing so much as a horse. So, at my sister's request, I am going to dig into the old horse books I had as a kid, and send some of the really great ones (actually there were five of these, and I have them as a boxed set--now out of print) to her along with a note about how these were her mom's and my books as children and we want to pass them along to her now. The babies, I'm sure we have some baby toys in good shape we can pass along. Books are always good, or crafty project things for the preschool kids. If we get our act together, we can burn some cd's for the adults, or copy movies (yeah, yeah, fuck the law. We used to have money and buy DVDs), and/or make photo cds for the grandparents.

Is it really wrong if I am hoping to scrimp enough on Xmas presents to be able to afford a haircut this month? How 'bout if I tell you I haven't had my hair cut since September and the bangs are growing out and look like hell? I know, I know. 'Tis the season and all, and I'm being vain and selfish. But I always thought that O. Henry story had kind of a martyr complex. Which is what Christmas is all about, I guess. But still.