Part 8 (2/2)

Thank You

Lots of people travel around the holidays, and I'm no exception. I've been driving around like crazy, and if I'm driving, that means I'm getting lost.

Luckily, my car isn't.

I have one of those navigation systems, so my car knows where it is at all times. Yesterday, when I missed the turn for I-95 and found myself in Saddle River, New Jersey, it told me to take two left turns and a right, which set me instantly back on track. It even located me near the rest stop, so I could go to the bathroom. I think it knew I had to go to the bathroom.

In fact, it's so smart it could probably go to the bathroom for me.

Not only that, if I press a b.u.t.ton, my navigation system will tell me where all the other rest stops are in New Jersey, so I have a complete array of rest stop options. After all, I may be feeling more Joyce Kilmer than Vince Lombardi.

I love my navigation system very deeply. It's always there for me, wherever I am. It asks nothing of me, but does its job competently and professionally. It even has a cute little accent, of indeterminate origin. And though it's always right, it never says I-told-you-so.

If I could marry my navigation system, I would.

I would even vow to love, honor, and obey it. Because the only times I've gone wrong are when I haven't obeyed my navigation system. In fact, my navigation system is the only thing in the world I will ever obey.

I feel almost as good about my cell phone. The other day I realized that I had forgotten the date of a doctor's appointment, but I didn't have the doctor's phone number to call them and ask. I called 411, but they didn't have the number either, for some reason.

Luckily, my cell phone is smarter than I am.

It remembered that I had called the doctor once before and it kept the number, even though I didn't. So I called the doctor and found out that I had missed my appointment.

If my cell phone had had the appointment, it would have been there.

And now there are cell phones that not only remember your doctor's number, but even have a navigation system. Those cell phones are going to take over the world. I advise you to get one, before it gets you.

My TV is a brainiac, too. I was watching it when all of a sudden a little sign came on the screen, reminding me that I had wanted to record a show that was playing on another channel. Of course, I had totally forgotten that I wanted to record the show, but my TV remembered. Unfortunately, it couldn't remind me why I had wanted to record such a dumb show. But that may be too much to ask of a TV.

Until next year.

Then, our TVs will record shows that we meant to record, but forgot to. And shows that we didn't want to record, but should have. And shows that they don't even make, but they should. Like funny ones.

The other day, I got to thinking about how lucky we are to live in a country in which we are so well taken care of. Our navigation systems, cell phones, and televisions are working hard for us, when we aren't. They have our lives in hand, so we aren't bothered. They ask nothing in return. They don't even resent us when we don't say thank you. live in a country in which we are so well taken care of. Our navigation systems, cell phones, and televisions are working hard for us, when we aren't. They have our lives in hand, so we aren't bothered. They ask nothing in return. They don't even resent us when we don't say thank you.

They free us to do what we want to do.

They give us peace of mind.

This holiday, we'll all be giving gifts like crazy, tons of navigation systems, cell phones, and TVs. I'm going to be giving them, too, so my family and friends will always be able to see whatever dumb show they want to see. So they'll be able to talk to whomever they want to talk to, and say what they want to say. And so that no matter where they go, whenever they get lost, they can always find their way back home.

And this holiday, when I give gifts to the people I love, I won't forget for a minute the people serving so far away in Iraq, Afghanistan, and all around the world, who are giving all of us the gift of their very selves.

They do not ask to be thanked, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve to be thanked. They are paying for our gifts with something far more precious than money.

Thank you, soldiers everywhere, this holiday.

We love and appreciate you.

May you find your way home soon.

UnResolutions

This is the time of year when people make New Year's resolutions, but I have a better idea. By definition, a resolution is something you want to change about yourself, something you've done wrong in the past that you want to start doing right.

Boo!

I think we would all be better served if this New Year, we made unresolutions. That is, let's make a list of things we've been doing and we'd like to keep doing.

Who needs negativism around the holidays? Times are tough, and why should we make them tougher? Especially on our favorite people in the world, namely ourselves.

Let's give it a try, shall we?

I'll go first.

UnResolution Number One. I sleep in my clothes, and I resolve to keep sleeping in my clothes. I know this sounds weird, and it helps that my clothes are fleece pants and a fleece top, because I work at home. Sometimes I even wear a fleece hat to bed, like a nightcap, because I like my room cold but not my head. Bottom line, I never have to worry about what to wear, and I'm already dressed, all the time. So now you know. have to worry about what to wear, and I'm already dressed, all the time. So now you know.

UnResolution Number Two. I kiss my pets on the lips, and I like it. I know people say it's unsanitary, but they're no fun. All of my animals expect me to kiss them on the lips, even my pony. And if they balk, I grab them by their furry cheeks and force them to stand still. I'm paying the room and board, and all I want is a little smooch. Ain't nothing wrong with that.

UnResolution Number Three. I don't own an iron. It's not the worst thing in the world if my clothes are a little wrinkly. No one really notices, or if they do, they're too polite to say so, which is the same thing. To me.

UnResolution Number Four. I talk to strangers. I get this from Mother Mary, who, when we went into the Acme, talked to the produce guy, the stock boy, and the cas.h.i.+er. She was always up in their business, and in time, they were up in hers. It turned every errand into a little party, a reunion of old friends, but there just happens to be a cash register in the middle.

UnResolution Number Five. I make too much food. If I serve dinner and no one at the table says, ”You made too much food,” then I feel like I failed. I love the idea that there's a lot of food on the table. I want everybody full and happy, and I always give the leftovers to the dogs and cats. You know what comes next. (I kiss them on the lips.) .

UnResolution Number Six. I wear flats. I used to always wear high heels, because I'm a shorty. I thought I felt more powerful in heels, but all I really felt was more painful. It was daughter Francesca who got me started wearing flats, and it changed my life. My toes are always happy, and I'm still a mighty mite. felt more powerful in heels, but all I really felt was more painful. It was daughter Francesca who got me started wearing flats, and it changed my life. My toes are always happy, and I'm still a mighty mite.

UnResolution Number Seven. I buy too many books. I love to read and have hundreds of books overflowing my bookshelves and stacked high on my dining room table, in piles. I love living around books, and reading is like traveling without baggage claim. Who needs a dining room anyway?

So maybe now you understand why I'm single.

Which brings me to UnResolution Number Eight. I live alone, but I'm not lonely. I know lots of you live alone, whether by choice or by circ.u.mstance, and you may be lonely, especially around the holidays. I'm not saying you're not allowed to be, all I'm saying is that the fact that you live alone doesn't necessarily mean you're lonely. It means you're free to wear hats to bed.

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