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Resolutely into 2012

by Elaine Viets and the rest of the Femmes.

Some do it. Some don’t. And some refuse to consider the subject.

But you can’t avoid talking about New Year’s resolutions. Not now.

The Femmes Fatales are resolutely divided.

 

Charlaine Harris: I intend to be more like a duck and let the negativity roll off my back.

 

Toni L. P. Kelner: I resolve to be better with writing deadlines. I've squeaked by too many times in recent years--it's time to pull up my big girl panties and tackle that issue.

Hank Phillippi Ryan: Seriously? I mean — truly seriously. I am going to try to stop worrying and trying to be perfect. I talk a good game about this—in all the classes I teach, and speeches. I talk about how you’re on the journey—and you’ll wind up at the same destination whether you worry or not. But me—confession--I still worry. I’ll try not to be overwhelmed by everything. Can one TRY not to be overwhelmed? Hmm.

I’m pretty good at counting blessings. I’m pretty good at watching the stars and noticing the flowers and seeing beauty and being grateful. And I think that makes a difference. So that’s a top resolution—continue, and be part of the world.

I’m already diligent—some would say too diligent—about my writing. So that’s good. But I want to be better. Better at it. How does one do that?

And I always think about being nicer. Sometimes it’s easy to make a crack about something or someone. But what’s really helped by that? SO, I’m try to hold my tongue. As much as I can.

And I’ll try not to push my new book too much. See? I’m not even mentioning it by name.

Happy New Year!

 

Dana Camaron: Hmm. Not resolutions -- I like to start making changes in my life as soon as I think of them, and not wait for an arbitrary date. Let's call them "anticipations" for the New Year, things I'm looking forward to. I can't wait to tackle the pile of books I have tbr and can't wait to discover more new comic books -- a passion I've recently reconnected with.

I need to find new music to work to and I'm already planning some travel for fun (Paris!). One of the great blessings of my job is getting to meet folks and visit with friends at conventions, and I'm already lining up a flock of events. I'm hoping to get more Fangborn stories out into the world, and have a couple of ideas in that direction.

I wish these things for the Femmes Fatales and our faithful readers, too: may the New Year bring reading and travel adventures, good friends, and work that makes you happy! All the best in 2012!

 

Mary Saums: Some of my 2012 resolutions are continuations from last year - exercise more often, relax more often, choose foods more wisely, give away more stuff. This year I want to continue making progress on those and add a few more - drawing or painting combined with nature walks, getting a little home recording studio going, do music tracks for fun, work on voice training for audiobook narration. So these are transition goals to prepare for retirement in a few years. I hope!

 

Donna Andrews: This is a little tough for me, because as I've said before (possibly on our blog)--but here it is again:

I don't do resolutions. You make a resolution, and then if you break it--it's broken. No matter how well you keep it the rest of the year, if you broke your resolution once or twice in January . . . it's somehow less than perfect. And so there's an all-too-human tendency to think that maybe it's okay--or even better--to wait until you can start clean with a brand new unbroken resolution . . . next year. And that way lies never getting ANYTHING done.

Instead, I make goals. If you don't meet a goal right away, you keep trying. Over the next week or two, I will take stock of what I accomplished in 2011 and what I hope to accomplish in 2012. I'll try to set some ambitious but realistic goals. And figure out what I need to get done in January if I want to achieve those goals. It's the same way I write books. Even after eighteen books, the idea of writing a whole book can be a little bit intimidating. Which is why I never write a whole book--I make a plan for one, and then I break it down into dozens of manageable little pieces that are far less scary to find on my daily to do list.

So I don't have any resolutions, and I can't really say what my goals will be for next year. Except that one of them will almost certainly be getting my next book started in good time and finished well before the absolute deadline!

 

Kris Neri: I don’t completely disagree with Femme Donna — some of us do have a tendency to think that if we slip off the resolution path, we might as well scrap the whole idea of changing some aspects of our lives. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It would do us all well to acknowledge how hard change is.

I think of January 1 as a reset button on my life. As I approach that time, I look back over the prior year, at what I’ve done well, what strides I’ve made, as well as what areas still need work.

I also use the words "intend" or "intentions," rather than "resolutions," because I consider it stronger. So . . . I intend to continue the growth I’ve already begun in areas that were part of last year’s January 1st intentions, and now I want to begin others. I want more fun in my life this year for one thing. And I intend to ride the weight yo-yo in the other direction now.

I do think a few extra official reset buttons would keep us all more on track with our intentions, goals, resolutions, or whatever else we might call them. Maybe I’ll make the intention of setting more of those for myself. The Ides of March sounds as if it might make a good one.

 

Elaine Viets: I resolve to make no resolutions.

Seriously, my German ancestors balk at change. How they ever crossed the ocean to the USA is beyond me. But I’m learning to enjoy change, even revel in it. So I’m looking forward to 2012. Bring it on!

Beach reads/beach writes

by Dana

We snuck out during the holidays, trading in wintry New England for balmy Turks and Caicos.  Don't worry, we got a snootful of rain and wind on the turbulent flight home, and the temperature is  plummeting like a sheep as I type this, so we're not missing out on seasonal weather. 

Once we established ourselves on the beach, I was eager to see what other people were reading.  Last year, it was all Stieg Larsson and Stephenie Meyer; only one of each of those this year.  I did see a couple of folks reading David Baldacci and Harlan Coben; one Harry Potter and one Nevada Barr.  There were a bunch of Steve Jobs biographies, and one or two folks had accounting or law guides, which I found depressing, but maybe made them giddily happy. 

(I also like to see what people are wearing.  I'm very happy to report there are fewer thong bikinis than ever.  I don't care how good you look in them—and most people don't—it's just too much information for me.  There were only one or two misguided Speedo sightings, and I can tell you, long surfer trunks are not made more attractive with giant images of cheeseburgers.  But I digress.)

I always think it's funny when people describe crime fiction or fantasy as “beach reads,” because I take both genres pretty seriously.  Some times, I bring a stack of new authors with me to read, but sometimes, if I'm trying to take a real break from writing, I relax with non-fiction.  This trip, I read Murray Murphey's Truth & History (shout out to my Am Civ peeps!), Michio Kaku's Physics of the Impossible, and Richard Feynman's Six Easy Pieces.  It was a great distraction:  I got to relive some of my favorite Murphey lecture moments and think about how archaeologists and historians approach the past.  The Feynman is readable and a gentle intro to physics, and Kaku's book ties in what I do know about physics from popular culture (Star Wars, Star Trek, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) and talks about what it would take to actually create a light saber, a transporter, etc.  Anecdotes give me something to relate to while I'm learning the science.

It worked.  Mostly.  I enjoyed myself, learned a little, chilled a lot.  The problem and/or upside was:  reading Murphey's book made me think about what Anna Hoyt would do in the Caribbean (and how I would know she did it).  Reading the popular physics books made me think about the origins of the Fangborn and how exactly they could effect their physical transformations.  And seeing people throwing sand at each other “for fun” made me think about my new character Jayne, the “recovering covert operative,” and how she might stop their antisocial behavior.  So while I didn't exactly manage to leave work entirely behind (I don't think you can, as a writer), I was able to make notes for new stories without feeling...dutiful.  Obliged.  Like I was working.  Maybe it was more relaxing because I wasn't consciously grappling with a story, so the ideas that came to me felt like a bonus (and not a continuation of the work week).  It was a good break.

Writers, what do you read (or not read) to relax and get away from your projects?  Readers, what do you like to read to take a vacation from the world for a few hours?

Movie Therapy!

from Mary

Happy Holidays, everyone!

It's that time of the year when things get a little crazy. Family get-togethers, parties, fighting the masses while shopping, hurrying to finish one thing so you can start on the next must-do. It can get a little frustrating. And, as I feel my age more and more, all the fun and running around wears me totally out.  

So this year, I'm determined to carve out some holiday flop time. As in, flop down on the couch and enjoy some movies. It's like pushing the reset button. We work all year to meet goals. We'll be setting new goals soon for the next year. In between, why not rest a little bit and a let a movie give you a mind massage.

Here are my current favorites (that I can think of right now), a little more than a top ten:

Tied for #1:

Fun story, great cast, Brando and Maximillian Schell crack me up ....

  

Laugh out loud funny ...

 

 

Set in NYC, cool screenplay, awesome cast ..

 

Mel Brooks ... what's not to like?

Archeology! I could watch this one over and over and ....

Like the Beverly Hills Cop movies, lots of action and great funny scenes.

The cast, the scenery, the hairy feet ...

Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker make a great team. Nothing better than a little kung fu fighting ...

  

This is a new favorite. Saw it for the first time last week. Hugh Grant is hilarious, Bill Nighy is over the top, Colin Firth is so good-looking ...

.

The archeaology/action classic...

 

Another NYC favorite, love the bubbe ... 

 

Tied for the #2 spot would be The Secret of Roan Inish, Doc Hollywood, the first Harry Potter, The Dirty Dozen, Casablanca, any Alfred Hitchcock movie, anything with Burt Lancaster in it.

I know I'm forgetting lots of good ones. What other suggestions would you make for a mental get-away?

 

by Charlaine

There’s something to be said for hitting rock bottom. As I was drinking my first cup of coffee Sunday morning, I was reading my favorite magazine,  Entertainment Weekly. I’ve been a faithful subscriber for many years, and I remember how excited I was when my name was in its pages for the first time, when Alan Ball began filming “True Blood.”

I was in the pages of EW again in the year-end issue: “Best and Worst of 2011.” My book, DEAD RECKONING, was designated one of the worst of the year, along with a book by the ubiquitous Kardashians and one by Snooki of “Jersey Shore” fame.

At first I really couldn’t believe it. Though I fully realized DEAD RECKONING was not a perfect book, I knew I’d read worse during 2011. Then I realized that the criteria must have been, “bad books by someone famous.” Still, it stung pretty badly, as you can imagine.

I was pretty philosophical about the experience until my inner insecurities began to plague me. Most writers have plenty of those, beginning with the suspicion that we are actually no good at all and that someday someone will discover this . . . no matter how healthy our bank account may be, or how brisk sales have been.

I was secretly hoping my agent would challenge the article’s writer to a duel. Then I realized that if anyone did that, it should be me, and I was feeling way too pitiful.

I hope I don’t experience anything more humiliating in my professional life. This kind of capped off a very eventful 2011 for me, because I’ve had a number of thunderbolts, both personal and professional. Next year simply HAS to be better

Making the Holidays Special

by Toni L.P. Kelner

Most years, the first bit of Christmas gear we Kelners bring down from the attic isn't a box of ornaments or a bag of wrapping paper--it's the box of Christmas tapes and DVDs. Ove the years, we've amassed a collection of nearly forty videos.

We've got classic movies like Miracle on 34th Street, It's a Wonderful Life, and White Christmas. We've got newer movies like Elf and the Santa Clause. We've got all the specials I used to plan my TV viewing around in December: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and A Charlie Brown Christmas. We've got half a dozen versions of A Christmas Carol, including the Patrick Stewart one-man show, the Blackadder pastiche, the Muppet version, and Mickey Mouse's take. We've got oddities like A Ham-Ham Christmas (part of the Hamtaro craze a few years back) and A Colbert Christmas-the Greatest Gift of All (which includes Willie Nelson as a shepherd in a manger scene and Steven Colbert's duet with a bear). 

Lest you think we are dyed in the wool, I assure you that each year we add to our collection. This year, we've already bought A Phineas and Ferb Christmas and on Christmas night, we'll be watching Doctor Who: The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe. 

Of course, we don't actually sit down and watch every one of these videos every year. If we did, there'd be no time for shopping or wrapping presents. But there are some that are firmly entrenched as part of our holiday traditions. These are the ones we make time for.

The Year Without a Santa Claus -- Each year Steve and I argue over the relative merits of the Snow Miser and the Heat Miser. Clearly the Heat Miser is superior.

Santa Claus is Coming to Town -- We love the way it explains all the Christmas traditions, even if those explanations aren't exactly historically accurate.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer -- Hey, who doesn't like the story of an underdog, or deer, who goes down in history? And Yukon Cornelius is just a charmer. (Donner, on the other hand, has issues...)

Olive the Other Reindeer -- One of the sweetest stories ever to be told about a delusional pooch, a larcenous penguin, and a pet flea.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas -- It's just a joy from beginning to end.

A Pinky and the Brain Christmas -- I swear to you, I tear up every time Brain gives up his chance to take over the world to wish everybody the best Christmas ever.

A Charlie Brown Christmas -- Other than The Little Drummer Boy, which has the only claymation murders I'm aware of, it's one of the few Christmas specials to actually mention Christianity. They get props for that, and the awesome dance scene. (Hands up if you've ever been in a crowd of people recreating the choreography of these guys?)

White Christmas -- It's an overblown Hollywood musical extravagenza, with the kind of logic that only makes sense during in Hollywood musical extravagenzas, but the actors give it their all, the music and dancing are wonderful, and the world is so beautiful. I choke up at the end of this one, too.

In looking over this list of those of specials that are particularly special to Steve, the girls, and me, I'm trying to figure out why we picked this crew. Obviously, there's nostalgia involved--the shows we watched as children are still meaningful. We like humor and music, and we don't mind a whopping big dose of sentimentality at this time of year. We're willing to add characters to the mythology of Christmas, and now decorate with Rudoph toys and Miser Brothers figures. We're happy with strictly Christian stories from Linus and with the Grinch's non-denominational warmth. We like live action, claymation, and plain old cartoons. We are willing to believe in Santa, angels, talking lab mice, and a flying dog. And above all, we like happy endings at Christmas.

So what movies and specials do you watch to make your holidays special? Whatever they are, make time to watch them and smile! I want your holiday to have as happy an ending as the sappiest of our specials.

What would you go back to see?

By Kris Neri

If a time machine existed, what events would you go back in history to see? Lincoln’s delivery of the Gettysburg Address? John F. Kennedy’s “I am a Berliner” speech? Maybe if you’re particular bloodthirsty, you’d like to go back far enough to see Anne Boleyn beheaded. Or to storm the beach at Normandy for the D-Day invasion.

Except for the beheading, I’d enjoy witnessing all of those events and many more. But an event I have always wished I could have been present for would be to be in that field in Roswell, New Mexico in 1947, when a particular aircraft was said to have crashed.

Was it really an aircraft? The government has maintained all these years that it was a failed weather balloon. Probably true, right? Still, witnesses at the time insisted it was a spacecraft and that alien bodies were taken from it. Mostly likely it was just a weather balloon — real life can be so dreary.

The great thing about writing is that it’s just like having a time machine. No, it’s even better. Through my new Magical Mystery, MAGICAL ALIENATION, I not got to visit that field, I was able create the truth about what really happened there.

And not just Roswell, either. I also got to decide what really goes on at the infamous Area 51 at Groom Lake, Nevada. And if you think you know what those places are all about, you’re in for a big surprise.

MAGICAL ALIENATION once again features fake psychic Samantha Brennan and genuine Celtic goddess/FBI agent Annabelle Haggerty. Cheerful Samantha figures she has finally hit the mother lode in this book, having signed on as the spiritual adviser of the aging bad boy of rock, Rand Riker. It’s all fun and games at first, and Samantha, deserves some fun after her breakup from her former beau, Angus, the ever-hot Celtic god of youth and love and laughter, who, after stealing her heart, broke it by having a fling with a mermaid.

If only Rand weren’t headed to the New Age town of Sedona, Arizona to host a benefit concert for the most hated man in America, militia guru Normal Frankly, accused of trying to kill Arizona’s charismatic senator, Kenny Campbell. Samantha tangles with goddess-in-hiding, Special Agent Annabelle Haggerty of the FBI. Though Samantha and Annabelle were once mismatched partners in crime, they’re now on opposite sides, since Annabelle has become responsible for Senator Campbell’s safety.

Tensions spike when Normal Frankly’s militia pals free him from captivity. In their raid, they not only abduct his judge and jury, but also a passing U.S. Army convoy, allowing them to take possession of prisoner who has been the government’s most closely guarded secret for over sixty years — the Roswell alien.

By writing MAGICAL ALIENATION, I not only had the chance to look into unexplained happenings of the past, I also was able to look into the future, to a time of unprecedented war of the gods that manifested on Earth as an unheard of worldwide storm.

MAGICAL ALIENATION  picks up with HIGH CRIMES ON THE MAGICAL PLANE left off, introducing new gods and goddesses, including Fiona, Annabelle’s secretive goddess mother, and the trickster gods of Lugh and Taliesin, responsible for such real present-day phenomenon as bizarre weather patterns and crop circles. There is a reason why Allyson James, the national bestselling author of Stormwalker called MAGICAL ALIENATION, “…a hilarious tangle of gods and goddesses.”

With gods wielding unimaginable powers, and the shape shifting rock people twisting the very surface of the earth, as Sedona heads into the darkest night the planet has ever seen, Samantha rightfully concludes the fun and games have truly ended, and she wonders which, if any of them, will survive it.

But when Celtic gods are involved, nothing is ever as it appears.

Mostly, I love that they allowed me to travel to a space that was so fun. I hope you’ll find it so, too.

What would you go back to see if you could?

Epic battle

by Dana

I started the last short story I've been working on back in early fall.  It's done now, and out to my first readers, but it put up a hell of a fight, let me tell you. 

Normally, for me to write a short story, it takes a week or two of planning, then a week or two of writing.  And if things are going well—I'm rested, I haven't got other work pressing, I have a decent idea—a story can take half that time.  So for this story to be resisting me over the course of months...something was wrong.

It went wrong straight away.  Usually, I'm fine with all the Yoda-isms:  just let the story take you where it wants to go, just surrender.  I'm totally down with that, because I know the subconscious does a lot of work, if you let it.  But this story went so wrong, so immediately, I wasn't sure what was up.  Ordinarily, when I encounter resistance, it's because I'm writing a scene that doesn't fit, or one that will be hard, emotionally, to write, but I hadn't even gotten a paragraph down and the ground started shifting beneath my authorial feet (you can see me vs. the problem (actual size), above).

Maybe I should have been tipped off right away because I started to write a flashback—not the way I like to start.  But I figured, I'd find out how everything linked up later, and then probably do some rearranging.

Keep writing, was my answer to myself.  It will sort itself out.

Except it didn't.  It was like being carried out to sea in a boat over which I had no control:  I could see where I wanted to go, but no matter what I did, I kept moving away from my goal.  It got worse and worse, when I realized the story was actually about Claudia, but it was being told from Gerry's point of view.  Then I realized it was also set in their high-school past, at an age I personally am very happy to be far away from.  I so did not want to write what I was writing.  The project I had been looking forward to had turned into a Godzilla.

What happened to my wonderful plan? I asked myself. 

Keep writing, I told myself.  Keep writing, friends told me.

I kept writing, hoping the story would eventually loop around to where I'd started.  It didn't.  It was an epic battle, me vs. the monster my story was becoming, but I wanted to get that sucker done.  Finally, I realized, if I cut off the first page—when I thought I knew what was going on—and just wrote one more page to round out the ending, I'd have a whole story.  Not the one I intended to write, but it would be the one I needed to meet my goals for this year.  I did that, went back and did some polishing, and to my surprise, despite all my resistance, it was a story I think works.

I'm still puzzled about this.  I had context, I had characters, I had setting.  I had intent, I had goals--and I don't believe stories come to you from the aether, from the cabbage patch, or from any or all of the Nine Muses.  A coming-of -age story was the last thing on my mind, but it's what eventually I ended up writing, when I reeled it in to a manageable form (actual size, above).

So, Fellow Writers, let me ask you:  How do you know when it's time to push on a story or when it's time to give into it?   How do you deal with a story that gets out of control?

Remembering Dot

By Donna Andrews

On Friday, December 2, 2011, the birds of the world lost a staunch supporter: Dorothy Langslow Mitchell, known to almost everyone as "Dot."  I sometimes referred to her as my aunt, because it was a lot easier than saying "first cousin once removed."  Or worse, "first cousin once removed on my mother's mother's side." 

When I told Mom the news, she said, a little lugubriously, that she was now the oldest one left of the Langslow cousins. (Yes, Langslow.  I stole my maternal grandmother's last name for my heroine.  I always thought it was a cool name.) Mom was an only child, so her cousins were the closest thing she had to siblings.  When she was growing up, she and most of her Langslow cousins spent a big chunk of the summer on their grandfather's farm. Most of the cousins stayed in the Newport News/Yorktown area and remained close as adults. And while they weren't as strange as Meg's family, combined with the also numerous Hornsby clan on my mother's father's side of the family, they contributed to my feeling of growing up in a place where everyone didn't just know your name, they were probably also related to you.

Dot's passion was birding.  My dad enjoyed birding, but Dot left him in the dust.  She and her husband, Mike, netted and banded birds--she was Virginia's first female bander--and after banding them, they'd take pictures.  She used the pictures to give talks about birds in the local school systems and eventually to publish a book called All About Birds.

Birds crept into every aspect of her life.  Either my brother or I once gave Mom a sweater with hand-painted flowers on it.  She reported that the sweater caught Dot's eye and she came over to inspect it--and then abruptly lost interest when she realized there were no birds lurking among the blossoms.  When her daughters, Carolyn and Lorraine, gave her an answering machine, they recorded a message saying--between giggles--"You have reached the Bird Woman of Newport News!  Please leave a message!" 

For years, she and Mom and the other Langslow cousins would have a cousins' lunch once a month. But alas,  I don't think she and Mom had seen each other since 2004, when Dot's health began to decline and she moved to Staunton to live with her daughter Carolyn and her son-in-law, Allan.

I went down to Staunton not long after that with a few other writers to speak at the library, and Dot was the one who noticed I was coming and had her daughter arrange for us to get together to dinner.  I still recall Allan saying, with a bemused look on his face, that before Dot came to live with them, they'd had maybe one bird feeder, and now they had a dozen. Which, thank goodness, he had come to enjoy.

And at the library, Dot presented me with a copy of All About Birds. I need to organize my books again, because I can't put my hands on it right now, and I'd like to leaf through it again.  As I recall, most of the pictures are beautiful color closeups of birds, held gently in a human hand. The birds, of course, don't look all that thrilled at their chance for a closeup.  In fact, most of them look a little wild-eyed, but then they have no idea that they're being held by someone who loves them and has spent decades of her life fighting for them and their habitat.

If memory serves, the book also contains pictures of unusual places in which birds have nested.  Probably a lot of them taken in her own yard. According to Mom, Dot once spent weeks darting out whenever anyone pulled up in front of her house and shooing all the visitors and deliverymen to the back door so they wouldn't disturb the birds that had nested just above the front door.

The funeral home in Staunton has posted a long memorial piece that tells a lot more information about Dot--including things I never knew. She was, indeed, a remarkable woman.

I originally planned to fill both of my birdfeeders in her honor.  I did fill one, but the squirrels have broken the other, so I'll also be shopping for a replacement very soon. I can't make up to the birds for all Dot would be doing if she were still around, but I can do my little bit.

Steamed for the Holidays

By Elaine Viets

Mystery writer Taffy Cannon told a bunch of friends about eBay’s Deal of the Day – an Easy Gift Idea.

 And the gift?                                            

"A classic steam mop with 15 jets."

"I’d like a show of cyberhands, please," Taffy asked. "Who among us would like to receive this mop as a holiday gift?"

Not Donna Andrews. She may write about murder, but she couldn’t even type the I-word. "You will note that my hand is conspicuously tucked out of sight," she wrote. "Steam mops? Next you'll be asking us about steam i--ns."

Maryelizabeth Hart said, "While I can understand appreciating owning such a thing, I think I would probably whack the giver with the mop handle if I received such as a gift, unless it was by specific request. Now, if it was a steampunk mop . . ."

Toni L. P. Kelner asked the crucial question: "What the heck is a steam mop? Come to think of it, I can't even remember the last time I used a regular mop. I have a cleaning guy. He has a mop. It is not, as far as I know, a steam mop."

A 15-jet steam mop has 15 holes along the bottom to "ensure even steam distribution, cleaning and sanitizing" on most hard floors, like tile, marble and stone and vinyl.

It’s supposed to be "an easy, safe and cost-effective way to get a deep-down clean without the use of chemicals or detergents." When I read those words "cost-effective" and "deep-down clean," I felt a slight stirring. I come from a long line of German-American women who are competitive cleaners. They’d pawn the family silver to get money for a steam mop. They’d also get more pleasure from the mop than their husbands. Of course, the lightweight mop is easier to handle than a hardheaded kraut.

I quickly tamped down those ancient feelings. I’ve abandoned my family’s sensible lifestyle. I don’t keep a home so clean a surgeon could operate on the diningroom table.

Some of my friends actually yearned for this contraption: "It has been on my list for two years," Karen Mayers wrote wistfully. "No one has gotten it for me. I took it off this year, alas."

Every day, eBay is offering more Easy Gift Ideas including an HDTV, a front-load gas dryer, a Black and Decker yard vac, and a 16-channel security camera. My UPS driver would get a hernia from returning all those gifts.

I’m frivolous and that’s how I like my gifts. Restaurant dinners, dark chocolate, books, pretty clothes are perfectly useless – and perfect for me.

I’ve heard that some people ask for tool kits, vacuum cleaners, or blenders. On my holiday list any gift with a cord is probably a mistake, unless I request it – and I haven’t yet.

Some of my friends adore practical gifts. They’ll drool over Black & Decker power tools until they electrocute themselves. I wouldn’t dare buy my handy female friends wussy pink tool kits. They want the real deal – dark, mean and heavy-duty.

So what gets you steamed for the holidays? Do you like your gifts frivolous or practical?