We're kind of austere that way. We aren't very toy or gadget oriented, barring the occasional stuffed animal.

Kymm sent me half a dozen prints she did her very own self from photos she took last Christmas when we went to Beth's for a slumber party. She, on the other hand, has discovered my Horrid Secret: I am Bapa! That's right! The present she received from the mysterious PP and Bapa turned out to be from me! At least, my name was on the invoice, and the book I tried to give her was on the invoice. The book she actually received was for someone much, much younger. I hope the two year old who received Under the Tuscan Sun enjoys travelogues.

I realize everyone's going to yell at Amazon.com and swap things out, but it does tickle me to think of someone unwrapping the present for Little Whatsit and whispering to their spouse, "Bapa's gotten into the schnaps again, honey."

Christmas Eve was spent with four other couples, all favorite friends of ours, at Bill and Julie Humphries' apartment. We talked about the usual things Bay Area people talk about when they get together (job changes, housing prices, who went public, technology), the usual things science fiction fans talk about when they get together (books, films, science, technology), and decided to go see Galaxy Quest on Sunday as a group.

Galaxy Quest was funny, and terribly amusing if you're a Star Trek fan. I'm sure it's funny even if you've never been a fan of the show. It was an excellent parody of the Trek phenomenon plus an actual sci-fi adventure. Alan Rickman is my main man, and he didn't let me down in this. John was happy as a clam at high tide because his true love Sigourney Weaver played the babe with the low-cut outfits. Everyone thought Tim Allen was wonderful as the Kirk character. And the aliens are a scream. Fun movie. That makes four movies I went to this year: Shakespeare in Love, the Matrix, Phantom Menace, and Galaxy Quest. One historical, three sf. My, I'm consistent.

Sunday evening we ventured across the bay to Pam Davis and Terry Floyd's open house for yet more bon homie. My stomach can't take all these snacks and sweets and holiday drinks. I felt distinctly unwell for most of Sunday, but I managed to socialize and enjoy the seasonal frolics. I'm not very interested in the Millennium business, and it's been years since Christmas stressed me out, so I'm sailing through these last weeks of 1999 mainly concerned about how sensitive my stomach has become to rich foods after changing to a much lower fat diet. I don't ever recall having trouble eating this stuff before. Must be a good sign. Must get back to it very soon.

Some people bought me gifts from my Amazon.com wishlist, for which I thank you most sincerely. No one did as I suggested and sent me a check made out to Pets In Need instead, but I'm sending my own check tomorrow anyway. A lot of young animals bought for Christmas presents are going to be abandoned in the next month or two when they turn out to be a lot more work than anyone thought, and wind up at the shelter. I want them to have another chance. Maybe some day I'll end up grooming them when I change careers.

Ha! Yes, I'm still thinking about being a pet groomer. It appeals to me in the abstract; not sure what the reality is like. But you know, I believe I have a bit of time to think about it. I am quite sure my boss isn't going to lay us off until the last possible moment, and I hope that won't be for another year at least.

Tomorrow, answers to last week's Geo IQ quiz, and then a week's respite until the new century.

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