Christmas happened, and it happened on Christmas Day. I made spinach dip with water chestnuts, using guacamole dip instead of sour cream. I used wide fried Chinese egg noodles for chips instead of tortilla chips which are scientifically engineered to cut up your mouth. I made a new chicken fajitas recipe that I found on the Internet, substituting Morningstar chicken fake meat stuff and wrapped them in spinach green fajita wrappers. I have aspirations of being a vegetarian now and then, even though I particularly like chicken. I also made giant blueberry muffins with struesel topping. I gave myself a treat and had a Pepsi with real sugar instead of a Diet Coke. Now I read that it's better to kill yourself with "white poison" (sugar) than to die of cancer from artificial sweeteners. Some have gone so far as to say that is why they put artificial sweeteners in food.

Of course, after I made all the food, I got scared to be alone with it, for fear I might eat it, all of it by myself, so I packaged a lot of it up and trucked it over to Tootsie Roll's house to share with her and her friend Tough Customer. (Please remember that I use these thinly disguised aliases for my own protection.) They swapped some hot home-made tamales for some of the fajitas. You would think we lived south of the U.S. border.

In the end, I was no better off. I had as much food as I had begun with, only with more variety.

On Christmas Day I sent e-cards to a lot of people. I sent a Holland Card to Lover-Boy because I had just heard from him via e-mail after some time had elapsed. I don't know that it was him who sent the e-mail, because I suspect his secretary sometimes sits down at his computer and e-mails me in his name. I always think it is she when I ask a hard question and it doesn't get answered right away. I think: He will answer it when he gets back to the office.

I picked out a nice photo of footprints in virgin snow. One set. Then I thought: I hope he doesn't think that I mean to tell him it's Jesus carrying him through the snow. Maybe he will think he is tracking the Yeti. Or maybe he will think I am saying he is the Yeti. Or maybe he will think I am tracking him. I sent it anyway, acknowledging to myself that any card with a message can be interpreted in various ways.

Prehistoric Boyfriend called on Christmas Day and talked for a couple of hours. He hunts saber-tooths or is it saber-teeth? He likes women to have long hair and wear gunny sacks and be sweet and giggle and be willing to swap sex for simple household tasks. He is barking up the wrong tree. I fear for him. He thinks I am a sin-filled tart who won't share. I guess that makes me stingy.

Last time he was in town, we sat down at my table and had tea, while I grilled him in a manner that would make MI6 blush. It was his own fault. When I told him I was a monster, he did not believe me.

Christmas Monday I went Christmas ornament shopping, which is my favorite. Everything is 50 percent off. I put them in a storage box, and next Christmas they are just like new. I love all that stuff. It's kitsch to the max. Tootsie Roll berates me for my bad habit of buying stuff I don't need, but I 'm shameless about Christmas decorations. It's fun. I bought ten rolls of beautiful ribbon and a little angel. One day, I will give it all away.

On my way to the car to go Christmas ornament shopping, I noticed that my neighbor Ken Doll had thrown his tree out already. There it was, "butt-necked", just flung on the ground waiting to be re-cycled, not even one strand of tinsel on its limbs. I suspect he is fickle in his personal affairs too, although I am only guessing.

I wanted to buy a real tree with roots in a container and then plant it in the yard after Christmas, but after I thought it through I realized it wouldn't take too many Xmases before the yard would look like a Christmas tree lot, and I would run out of people who would let me plant a tree in their yard, and pretty soon I might be the unwelcome guest who was always trying to foist a free evergreen on someone. I zilched that idea.

After the shopping frenzy was over, I went for a walk to clear my conscience of Spinach Dip Guilt. I felt a lot better. There were quite a lot of people out walking with the same problem.

It was a nice break from work, but I had dreamed of walking through blinding snow with tennis rackets on my feet in place of snowshoes that I do not have or lying naked on white sand in some sub-tropical location while being basted in coconut oil, and, oh, what-the-hell, turned on a spit, if need be. My Imaginary Life.