In the midst of a flurry of new-president-first-day executive orders/actions that ranged from horrifying to ludicrous, I reached the two-week post-surgical milestone for my knee replacement. I saw the surgeon, who removed the bandages and said the mess underneath looked “beautiful,” and cleared me to remove the compression stockings and, even better, to SHOWER. I went home and took a nice long shower and washed my hair twice and got into clean soft clothes and felt wonderful. Except for all the news, which was unrelenting and terrible.

I sure would appreciate it if journalists could make it clear when it’s “Something he wrote on a piece of paper that will immediately change laws/lives” vs. “Something he wrote on a piece of paper that will take years for the courts to resolve and in the meantime will have no affect on our lives other than the heavy burden of despair that someone would WANT to do this.” I suppose sometimes they don’t know, either. There are a lot of things he “couldn’t do” that he has done, because it turned out the people who were supposed to stop him chose not to stop him, or that there were no stopping mechanisms in place because no one but him has needed to be stopped from doing these things.

Home physical therapy has ended, and I saw the local physical therapist for the first time. She told me I was going to hate her for ten minutes out of every session, and then she told me to relax and breathe, and then she MANUALLY BENT MY KNEE, so much farther than I have so far been able to bend it—WAY past the point where it feels to me as if I come to a hard stop and literally cannot bend it any further. Afterward, while I was panting and wondering how loudly I had yelped, she said “Was I right? Do you hate me?” and I said “Not yet.” Her efforts have made me work harder at my physical therapy exercises at home: the more I can bend myself, the less she will have to bend me.

For those of us who consider this Inauguration Day to be a day steeped in horror and disbelief, a day we were hoping would somehow be prevented at one of the many, Many, MANY points it seemed like it clearly should have been prevented—how are you planning to spend the day? I have been partly in denial/hope, and partly distracted by the knee surgery, and partly not WANTING to think ahead or make plans.

In fact, one possible plan is to have no particular plan and spend the day as we usually would. That’s still a frontrunner for me.

Another possible plan is to mark it in small ways that are more deliberate. For example, posting something on Facebook in commemoration of MLK Jr. Day, though I find it’s hard to get that right. I’m already incredulous that the day is the same day as the inauguration (and pre-mad at some of the things we might see and hear because of that); that makes me even more reluctant to seem to be using MLK Jr. Day as a way to make an “I’m ignoring the inauguration” point, if you see what I mean.

But it’s the KIND of thing I mean. For example, tomorrow would be a real good day to make donations to NPR, the ACLU, Alight, any other organizations that fight against the bad things we expect in this coming era. It would be a good day to order some Ruth Bader Ginsburg forever stamps, or a Dissent is Patriotic t-shirt, or an equality/rainbow yard flag, or a little spontaneous gift for a friend. It would be a good day to do some volunteer work, or to donate blood, or to write some postcards, or to bring treats to a place that’s open despite the holiday. It would be a good day to do anything that feels like Doing Any Small Measure of Good.

(image from usps.com)

(image from ACLU.org)

It would also be a good day to wrap up in a throw blanket and drink something hot and treat yourself like you’re ill, or suffering heartbreak, or recovering from knee-replacement surgery. Watch some riveting or soothing TV. Read a book you got for Christmas and have been saving for a special occasion. Eat soup and saltines and drink ginger ale; or buy a pint of some extra fancy ice cream, maybe get some Pringles too. Use any shampoos/soaps/lotions you save for special. Do some restorative yoga and/or meditation and/or witchcraft. Get take-out. Burn a nice candle.

Maybe that would make you stir-crazy. Maybe you need to take action. Sometimes when I feel crummy, I will tackle chores that make me feel crummy, since I’m already feeling crummy anyway. Clean the bathroom, maybe sob a little. Scrub that irritating mold in the shower that keeps coming back, with clenched teeth. Really put the arm muscles into scrubbing the kitchen sink. Use a toothbrush around the faucets. Do laundry, maybe do a few soak loads with stain treatments. Pay bills and use the RBG stamps.

After my first pregnancy, I knew from experience that when I got a positive pregnancy test, I was on the verge of two months of feeling too tired and sick to do anything, and so I would use those last few interim days to do all the things I thought I’d appreciate when I was feeling tired and sick. Nice clean toilet to barf in! Nice clean shower to cry in! Nice clean sheets to sleep in! Nice clean kitchen to eat saltines / walnuts / grapefruit juice / cold pizza in! What things do we think Future Us will feel grateful to Current Us for doing? (Or maybe you are already Future Us, and it is too late to clean bathrooms.)

Sometimes in anticipation of a storm or a trip or the collapse of democracy, I find it soothing to Get Ready in small assorted ways. I change the batteries in my little pre-lit birch trees and flameless candles, and charge up the batteries I took out. I plug in all our electronic devices, and the back-up batteries for those devices. I buy extras of groceries. I get caught up on laundry.

Maybe it’s time for a distracting project. One of my friends has committed to sending one piece of snail mail every single day for a year; she’s signed up for Postcrossing as part of this. Another friend has signed up for a group sewing class: she wants to learn to make quilts with a sewing machine. I’m planning to send Valentine’s Day care packages to the twins and several of their friends; maybe I will spend some time tomorrow shopping for heartsy things.

Today the visiting home physical therapist switched me from a walker to a cane, though I am still supposed to use the walker at night, or when I am tired or if I am particularly sore. The surgery was just under a week and a half ago, and the physical therapist says she thinks I’m over the worst of it. She will come for the last time on Monday, and then on Tuesday I will begin physical therapy at a local place in town, and on Wednesday I will see the surgeon and he will remove the bandages and see what’s what, AND THEN I WILL BE ABLE TO TAKE A SHOWER.

MOST of not-being-able-to-take-a-shower has not been as bad as I’d thought. It isn’t as if I’m working up a sweat, or even going outside. Every day or two I take a stack of washcloths and a lot of time, and I manage to end up feeling fairly fresh. But my hair. My hair! Ug. I tried using dry shampoo, but if anything that made it worse. I’d thought about going to a salon to get it shampooed, but the reason I qualify for a home physical therapist is that the surgeon declared me medically housebound for two weeks: I am not to leave my home, not only because I’m temporarily disabled but in order to avoid infection and illness. So then it feels iffy to leave to get my hair washed. A friend has offered to help me wash it in the sink, and that’s one option; another friend is sending me a shampooing shower cap, so that’s another option; and there is also the tough-it-out option.

The pain has been a significant issue to deal with, especially now that I am expected to taper off the 0pi0ids. I have been extremely lucky so far in life, and I don’t have experience with dealing with pain that goes on for so long. I only know how to take a pill or rest or stretch, and if those don’t work I am out of ideas. I did ask the physical therapist if there were any soothing exercises I could do (it seems as if we are focusing primarily on strengthening and upsetting the knee), and she said not really. She said heat can be helpful, but the surgeon does not want me to use heat on this incision; she said light massage can be helpful but probably not very. She said the knee is kind of a tricky joint for soothing after surgery; mostly we really do just try to strengthen it and bother it.

Right now it hurts most when I rest it, or hold it still for too long; there is no comfortable sitting/lying position. In some ways this is an advantage: it makes it easy to get up and walk laps around the house every hour, as I am supposed to do; and it makes it pretty easy to make myself do my physical therapy exercises three times a day even though I hate them and they hurt, because moving the knee makes it feel better overall. But it makes sleep difficult. I will startle awake, NEEDING to get up and move the knee. That is not restful. And it huuuuuurts, and it KEEPS HURTING, and as I say I have led a lucky life and so I am short on coping mechanisms. If this were going to go on much longer, I would investigate coping mechanisms. But I suspect there are not many good ones: the people I know who have chronic pain do not seem to get to the point where they’re like “Yep, no big deal, just endless pain!”

By the way, if you are hoping to be distracted from an upcoming looming event, may I recommend knee replacement surgery? Other surgeries may also work. The visiting home physical therapist said she’d see me for the last time on Monday the 20th, and I thought, “The 20th. Why does that date ring a bell?”

Good news so far: I did not die during surgery! I have not lost the leg…YET.

Wednesday night (the surgery was Tuesday morning) I had to go to the ER for pain, and that was miserable (it hurt too much to sit down, which is why I was there, so I had to stand with my walker for hours in the middle of the night—which, to be fair, I would have had to do at home if not at the ER). But I had a nice ER doctor who said that the pain medication I was on was for “delicate old people, and BABIES,” and gave me a shot of Di1audid which did nothing for the pain but knocked me right out so I got a few hours of sleep, and then in the morning Paul called the surgeon who saw us a few hours later and prescribed 0xyc0ntin and m0rphine, and now I can sleep, and sit, and do my little exercises. (The surgeon had not prescribed the 0xyc0ntin earlier, because another doctor 20 years ago said I was allergic to Perc0cet, and people allergic to Perc0cet but not acetaminophen are allergic to 0xyc0ntin. But I am taking the 0xyc0ntin and, separately, acetaminophen, with no allergic reaction. This means mathematically that I am NOT allergic to Perc0cet, and now let’s see how difficult that is to get changed in my records.) (I hope this is all making sense. The pain medications don’t make me feel high, but they do make my thinking feel gappy.)

I am in that stage of recovery where I wake up, make my way to the bathroom, brush my teeth, take my pills, eat some breakfast, wash my face, redo my ponytail, do my physical therapy exercises—and it’s lunchtime and I need a nap. The whole day goes like that. I have not read one single book or magazine. I have broken some of my Wordle and phone-game streaks. It wasn’t until three days after the surgery that I managed to take a patchy sponge bath and change my clothes. I’d thought I was going to binge-watch TV series and be really bored, but the whole day is just eaten up.

I am fairly covered in bruises. It took three tries to do the IV, and I have a big decorative bruise for each one, and also a bunch of pretty bruise-dots where they put the tourniquet. The surgical leg is 1.5 times the width of the other, and is very bruised, including a big garter-like dotted bruise where they put THAT tourniquet. The ER doctor clucked over me in a pleasing way: “Oh, look at this. My goodness. What did they do to you.”

Today (Saturday) is the first day I’ve had an appetite. Paul has been putting food in front of me and I eat it and it tastes good and makes me feel better, but today is the first day I’ve thought of food and wanted some.

I can go up and down stairs with a cane and the railing, but I need someone else to carry my walker up/down and meet me with it when I arrive. If this were going to go on longer than a couple of weeks, I would get a second walker; as it is, people are home anyway and it’s no big deal to ask one of them to transport the walker.

I am still sleeping in the recliner downstairs, even though I can do the stairs. There are several reasons which now seem almost too boring to list. The number of times I get up in the night, and how much noise I make doing so. I can’t roll over anyway, and it’s easier to sleep on my back in a recliner than in a bed. Paul’s snoring. A series of events that meant Paul would be gone several early mornings and I would be stranded upstairs until the kids woke up. The complication of middle-of-the-night medications. Anyway I am still in the recliner, but hope to soon be back in a bed.

I have put my earrings back in. I took them out as instructed for the surgery, and my ears felt weird and naked. But it wasn’t until three days later that I gathered the necessary resources to put most of them back in.

Thank you all so much for your meal-replacement drink suggestions. Every time I ask a question like that, I think this time I am asking TOO NICHE a question and will not be able to get information—and then it turns out that not only do LOTS of people have LOTS of good suggestions, but SOMEONE has just done a NINETY-PAGE COMPARATIVE REPORT ON THE TOPIC!!

I went partly on group opinions, partly on ease/speed of acquisition, partly on price per serving, partly on variety, and partly on vibes, and this time I bought a tub of Orgain meal-replacement powder, a single bottle of FairLife (our grocery store had singles), and a 12-pack of OWYN complete-nutrition shakes on sale. If he is still interested in this idea at the next gift-giving occasion, I have the comments section ready to revisit. I was very keen on the Oats Overnight idea, and will almost certainly get that next time; I would have gotten it this time, but stalled out over the big discount / free bottle they offered for subscribing (when I don’t WANT to subscribe). How to make myself pay $60, plus $9 for a mixing bottle, when they are offering the same bundle for $45 total if I subscribe?? I need 11 months to get over that hurdle.

My knee-replacement surgery is this coming Tuesday, and I am pretty nervous. I have not been sleeping well. I am nervous (as usual with all such things, including for example driving to an unfamiliar location an hour away) that I will die. I am nervous that this will turn out to have been The Wrong Decision, and that I am embarking on a long process of getting an infection, needing to remove and replace the replacement knee, and then of course eventually losing the leg. I am nervous there will be numerous health insurance complications and struggles, and bills suddenly arriving 18 months later, and the provider and the insurance company sending me back and forth between them when truly the only way to solve it (if they wanted to solve it) is for them to talk to each other. I’m nervous about not being able to shower for two weeks.

I am nervous because the instructions in my tidy folder from the hospital are clearly pieced together from multiple surgeons and offices over the last decade, and no one has ever made sure they make sense together. I am instructed on three separate pieces of paperwork to stop drinking alcohol two weeks before surgery, to stop drinking alcohol one week before surgery, and to reduce alcohol two days before surgery. (I cut out alcohol one week before surgery.) I am instructed that I MUST bring a walker to the hospital with me so that Physical Therapy can show me how to use it, or else I will not be discharged; I am instructed to acquire a walker but PLEASE DON’T bring it to the hospital; I am instructed that a walker is an optional but highly-encouraged purchase. (I have acquired a walker and will leave it in the car. Paul can fetch it if needed.) I am instructed that two weeks before my appointment I will be required to present myself at the hospital for a covid test, and that after that I must quarantine completely and be re-tested on the day of surgery; this no longer seems to be the case, but here is the paperwork in my folder. One set of instructions says that there will be a mandatory Joint Replacement class at the hospital taught by a nurse, and that I will be getting a call to set that up; another set says that this mandatory class will be held over Zoom, and that I will receive an email with a link. I have not heard anything else about any class, nor did they mention it during the pre-surgical assessment; there is a stapled print-out in the folder that looks like exactly like a print-out of slides from such a class. One set of instructions says I’ll be going home the same day as the surgery, and that’s what the pre-surgical nurse said; most of the other sets of paperwork assume I will stay at least one night, more likely two or three; I am instructed to bring at least two changes of clothing. (I will bring a bag with spare clothing, and will leave it in the car with the walker.)

I am nervous because I don’t know what the next six weeks after the surgery will be like, and of course it goes differently for different people. I don’t know how much pain to brace for, and of course it’s different for different people. I don’t know when I can go back to work, and of course it’s different for different people/jobs. I don’t know if I’ll be bored and restless, or if I’ll be contented and napping and reading and feeling pretty busy with physical therapy. I don’t even know how often I’ll be going to physical therapy: the paperwork says 1-3 times a week, and I don’t know who decides that, or how. It’s a $30 co-pay each time, so I’m pretty interested.

How did Christmas go, if you do Christmas? Feel free to say things that went well, or vent about things that went poorly, or both. Ours went well, except I found it exhausting, and now we have all caught a cold. This is giving us flashbacks to last year when we caught what the doctors thought was influenza A, and we were sick for weeks, and half of us had ear complications. This time it seems to be just a cold. I am nervous I will be sick too close to my knee-replacement surgery and they will have to postpone it. Apparently they will even postpone it if I have a small cut, like from shaving, so they advised me NOT TO SHAVE for a week before the surgery!

I am trying to avoid buying too much Christmas clearance. I don’t know if this will work for your own temperament, but I find it soothing to think “I have enough”: it seems to calm that impulse to buy MORE MORE MORE BECAUSE IT’S SUCH A GOOD DEAL AND I LIKE IT. I have enough (too many) ornaments, so I said no to many, many cute clearance ornaments, and only bought a very few. I have enough wrapping paper. I have enough Christmas plates/mugs (though I could buy more bowls if I found some). I have far more than enough candy/treats, even if they ARE on a really really good clearance (*experiencing pain*). Yes, I like/wear Christmas jammies/t-shirts, but I have enough of them. I don’t use the decor I already have, so I don’t need more. I have enough!

This is a niche request, but I’m wondering if anyone knows anything about meal-replacement powders/drinks. Rob’s birthday is shortly after Christmas, and he is so hard to buy for, and literally the only idea he’s given me is that he usually drinks Soylent but he’d be interested in trying alternatives. I started looking into it and got almost immediately overwhelmed—and also, I don’t want to accidentally buy one that supports some gross radio host or something. Some(/most) of the marketing of this kind of drink gives me icky Basement Reddit Guy feelings.

Rob drinks at most one meal-replacement drink per day, and his goals are to supplement his nutrition, and to simplify his food (by eliminating one meal he has to think about and shop for and cook) (he has a subscription to the Soylent, so it arrives automatically by mail). He’s a vegetarian but not a vegan. He’s the kind of person who would enjoy an ethical slant: like, he buys eggs from companies that treat the chickens nicely, and he’s mentioned that he might even be willing to eat meat if he could be sure it was ethically/kindly/environmentally raised, and one of the other gift ideas he likes is donations to charities he supports.

So what I’m hoping is that you or someone you know is similar to this, and that this will be your moment to shine and my moment to benefit. You will say “Ah ha!!! I was HOPING someone would ask! THIS meal-replacement drink is women-owned and the proceeds go to support equality, and also it is made from organic, fair-trade ingredients, and also it is surprisingly nutritious for a meal-replacement product!” Well, or it doesn’t have to be THAT perfect. I would also be really glad to hear “I buy this one! It tastes pretty okay and I don’t get too many Icky Reddit Guy vibes from the marketing!”

Did you put together a large Christmas puzzle this year? WAIT! Don’t take it apart just yet! Do what my mom did, and divide it into 25 sections, and put each section into its own lil numbered baggie, and make it an Advent / countdown-to-Christmas calendar for next year! You can number the baggies however you like: maybe you want them RANDOMIZED, so that the little puzzle-segments accumulate on the table but can’t be joined up yet! maybe you want them ORDERLY, so that the upper lefthand corner is day 1, and the next segment to the right is day 2 and joins up with it, and so forth! You can impose your own will, and you can change your mind next year if you want, simply by putting different puzzle-segments into different numbered baggies!

I had photos to illustrate this concept, but I seem to have misplaced them.

I’m so busy. I’m so busy. Are you SO BUSY?? It feels like one thing after another, and never done. But I know we are near the point where suddenly Everything Will Be Done. Ideally without any of us having murdered the spouse relaxing in the next room.

There are holiday things I like to do (festive baking, and distribution of same; holiday festivities with friends; doing a Christmas puzzle; leisurely Christmas shopping in stores; reading Christmas books by the Christmas tree; tipsily watching the movie A Bad Moms Christmas; writing gift-idea posts; thinking in a more leisurely way about presents; contemplating/implementing a wider spreading of festive feelings/treats/donations to people/businesses outside our own household; going to holiday fairs / special Christmas-light displays / holiday performances) that didn’t get done this year because I was busy doing Everything That Literally Had To Be Done; I wonder if next year there are some adjustments that could be made so that people who are 99% enjoying the holiday, and doing every blessed thing they want to do, while jovially complaining about the ONE PERSON they have to shop/wrap for and the ONE SINGLE THING they do to contribute, could be better balanced with those of us 10% enjoying the holiday and doing 99% of the work and missing out on many of the things we want to do.

I am in the stage where I keep thinking of and buying Just One More Little Thing for someone whose list looks skimpy. I used to fight this impulse, but it is too inherent. What I do now, instead, is that if I DO overdo it (sometimes my impulses are CORRECT and I have NOT overdone it but have instead SAVED CHRISTMAS), I put the extra things aside for birthdays: they all have birthdays in the first half of the year, so this works well.

For the first time in my life, I bought scratch tickets. I think it’s a fun gift idea, and some of my coworkers give them out as co-worker gifts and I like that, but I was nervous! But it was just a vending machine in the grocery store, no big deal. The only thing I didn’t like is that BOTH TIMES I used the machine, another customer was waiting for a turn WAY TOO CLOSE and with a vibe as if I were stealing HER tickets. I wished for a way to buy multiples, because in one case I was buying twenty-five $1 tickets for co-workers, and it seemed like the only way to do that was to push the button twenty-five times. I then went back the next day to buy those same $1 tickets for the kids (it is hard to find good fun stocking stuffers for older kids), and a $5 ticket each for Paul’s stocking and mine. Very fun.

Wait: that is an inadvertent lie, about never buying scratch tickets before. Long, long ago, when I was just out of college and working at a grocery store bakery, there was a trend among my co-workers of buying $2 scratch tickets. I can’t remember exactly what it was, but it was something like we all bought a ticket on payday, and we all scratched them in the break room—so when you were taking your break, you’d stop at the customer service counter and get your ticket, and then you’d scratch it off to the audience of whoever else was taking a break, and they would tell you what they’d gotten. We liked the $2 tickets because they pretty often paid out $5; some of us would keep the winnings and others of us would extend the fun by using it to buy a $5 ticket. But that was easier, because other people told me how to do it, and I was buying it from someone I knew at the desk. This week was the first time SINCE then, and I didn’t remember how to do it or how it worked, and also it worked differently. Well, that was not a very interesting story.

Paul’s office closes for the eight days of Christmas and New Year’s, and everyone gets paid for that time. My library closes for a half-day on Christmas Eve, and is closed Christmas Day, and we don’t get paid for the time, and we go right back to work on the 26th. And all the kids have lots of days off: Henry doesn’t go back to high school until January 2nd, and the twins don’t go back to college until mid-January. It is going to be a little galling to leave them all lounging about as I go back to work. Or maybe it will be glorious to get out of the house, get paid to work on a day when hardly any patrons come in, and spend most of the shift chatting with co-workers about Christmas and eating the treats everyone brings in. I do wish we had the 26th off, though. That’s one of my favorite days, when all the work of Christmas is over and you can lounge around and enjoy the leftovers and gifts and treats.

I keep meaning to tell you about the pelvic-floor therapy and it keeps being a lower priority than other things I want to talk about, but let me tell you one thing. If you have trouble with suddenly feeling like you HAVE TO PEE (like when you come home, or when you are in/near a bathroom), even when you don’t actually need to pee all that badly, a trick to make the feeling go away is to stand up on tip-toes, then drop your heels back down, then back on tiptoes again, several times; the muscles you use for that are apparently connected to the muscles of the pelvic floor. Another trick is to speak to your bladder firmly but compassionately, and say “You are okay. You can wait a few minutes. I promise we will pee soon.” Perhaps you would like to say that in your head, and not out loud. Another trick is to WALK A DIFFERENT DIRECTION than you normally do. Like if you always come home and go hang up your coat and then go plug in your phone, and this makes your bladder think WE ARE HOME AND MUST PEE RIGHT NOW, instead go the opposite way into a different room; you would think this was too silly to even try, but I tried it and it actually worked.

In some ways the page-a-day calendar is even more challenging than the wall calendar, because so many wall calendars are MADE to be pretty and restful. Whereas day-to-day calendars, with 353-354 more images to come up with in a year (oh: minus 52 or so because Sat/Sun are one page), tend to be a little more feisty. But this year I don’t want feisty, I don’t want funny; I might want art, beauty, science. I think I could tolerate cute, maybe even MILDLY funny? But I don’t want the Pusheen calendar again, even though I liked it this year. Too sweet and sunshiney.

I bought this one:

(image from Amazon.com)

The MET Art of Flowers. My hope is that it will be peaceful and pretty, and give the feeling of perspective that art can sometimes give, while also showing me every day what day it is, and giving me a decorative pile of scrap paper.

But I also just ordered this one:

(image from Amazon.com)

Worry Lines: Full of Hope and Potato day-to-day calendar. I do not need two page-a-day calendars, but this is not the first time I’ve ended up with two. And if this one is TOO hopeful or TOO uplifting, there is a cart at my workplace where we can put things we don’t want and someone else will take them; that’s what I did when the Effin’ Birds calendar turned out more aggressive than I’d thought it would be. But what happened was I saw this image (apparently from Instagram, which I don’t use and so I’m not sure how to link properly, but it’s apparently by @worry__lines if I’ve done that right, and please do let me know if I haven’t), and found it compelling enough that I went right to my cart and bought the calendar:

That is the level of funny/hopeful I find useful.

I will show you some other calendars I considered, in case you are still questing.

(image from Amazon.com)

(image from Amazon.com)

Cat page-a-day calendar. 365 Cats page-a-day calendar. I can look at a picture of a cat each day without feeling as if everything’s supposed to be fine when it’s not.

(image from Amazon.com)

(image from Amazon.com)

The MET Art: 365 Days of Masterpieces day-to-day calendar. Art page-a-day calendar. I find art mildly uplifting but without pressure to sustain that lift. Artists are CLASSICALLY tormented and miserable.

(image from Amazon.com)

Shoes page-a-day calendar. I have had this calendar before, and it was pleasing and fun. I wear sneakers, but I appreciate a fancy shoe.

(image from Amazon.com)

Mister Rogers day-at-a-time calendar. I am exactly the right age to get teary and sentimental about Mister Rogers, and it feels like we could use his sweetness, and I appreciate the way they’ve called this a “day-at-a-time” calendar. But I looked at the sample pages, and I found they did not hit the right note for me right now.

(image from Amazon.com)

Cartoons from The New Yorker day-to-day calendar. New Yorker cartoons don’t tend to be lol funny, they’re more quietly wry. I thought I might be able to enjoy quietly wry. But I decided against it, because I think it’s also possible I’d find it annoying and irrelevant.

(image from Amazon.com)

Paper Airplane fold-a-day calendar. Not for me, but for Paul or one of the kids. Paul has had this calendar before, and said he liked it the first time but didn’t think he wanted to do it again, but I’m still considering it for Rob and for Edward, who both have terrible skimpy wish lists.

(image from Amazon.com)

Spanish Phrasebook day-to-day calendar. And while writing this post, I remembered how keen Henry has been on his Spanish class this semester, so I ordered him this for Christmas. I like that it’s focused around phrases needed for travel, instead of just word-a-day.