Elise Sereni Patkotak

Saying goodbye to the relatives and friends you like when they have to go home.

Bye, bye Joey…..

The madness… the shopping frenzies… the incessant music… those damned singing chipmunks…

Wake my up January 1.

Every once in a while when I think the world of politics is going to drive me mad… ok, madder… something happens in the commercials realm that proves to me that politicians and government do not have the monopoly on idiocy.

I tried to pay my credit card bill online recently. A message popped up that denied me access because there was a “problem”.  Since I’d just spent a larger amount than normal at a home improvement store, I thought maybe they were being cautious about my card’s continued safety.

I called the number given for problems, then entered every

And so in the end this is what it comes down to… the major excitement in my life is surprising my dogs with an extra treat on a Saturday night. They are hysterically happy, I am smiling giddily – ok, the margarita may have something to do with that – and my birds flap around with joy because they know that if I give the dogs a special treat, they too will come in for a surprise.

What amazes me the most is how utterly content I am with this situation.

My wonderful cousin Marina (ok, there are a million Marina’s in my family and they are all wonderful but right now I’m referring to the one who will soon be Mrs. Williams) has thoughtfully invited me to not only the wedding but also to the rehearsal dinner the night before. I am honored by the invite. But I am also panicked since I’m going to guess I’ll now have to buy something for both the rehearsal dinner AND the wedding. That’s more clothes shopping than I normally do in a year or so.

If I try to make do with

It being the season, I thought it most appropriate to enumerate the many things for which I am thankful this year. Unfortunately, Joe Miller is still around, thereby depriving me of the one greatest thing for which I was hoping to give thanks.

But I can at least be grateful that the campaign is over.  I’m grateful I no longer have to be afraid to answer my phone. I have the joy of knowing it will bring nothing more than a telemarketer into my home and not some horrible push poll or even more horrible robo-call from some politician who

… there is not only a box of treats in every room of your house, but the minute you enter the room, your dogs follow, then sit and stare at the appropriate cupboard until that treat appears.

I thought it was pretty funny watching Blue slip and slide through my icy yard and then end up splay-legged when she tried to pee. I thought it was pretty funny right up to the point when I realized she couldn’t get her legs under her to come back in and I had to navigate the ice rink that is my yard full of dog poop to grab her and help her in. Then it wasn’t funny at all.

When I was growing up, pregnant teenagers went to a place called the Florence Crittenden home and had their babies in utter quiet and as much secrecy as possible. The babies were then adopted out and the girls returned to school with their missing months attributed to some vague illness. No one, not even the Catholic school girl I was at the time, was fooled.

It’s nice to be beyond those days of utter shame and secrecy when the teenager got little to no support for the emotional devastation the situation created.

But I do think we’ve perhaps gone a

Am I really the only person who thinks Glen Beck could play the evil villain in Harry Potter without missing a beat?