I have this anal-retentive internal clock that beeps without fail every June 1. This insistent beeping signals the onset of my "Must Get Ready For Thanksgiving & Christmas" behavior. It is a deep and abiding Imperative that induces me to call my Mom and ask her, "So what are we doing for Thanksgiving? Are we having the dinner at my house or her house?"

"Her" being my sister. She is now married and got a house roughly at the same time I did, so we have to "discuss" where to have the holiday meals.

"Its only June," Mom replies incredulously.

"I know," I protest. "But I call you every June 1 to find out, so why should this year be any different?" I hear a resigned sigh on the other end.

"Call your sister," Mom suggests.

I think I may have taken it a little far one year. At the time I was working the early shift (aka starting at 5:30 am). I was enthusiastically surfing the Internet for possible Christmas presents for my family. At about 7:30 am, I found cashmere socks that I thought my Dad would love. He should be up by now, I thought to myself as I called my parents.

"Hello," Dad answered groggily. He may have been a little unhappy that someone had the audacity to call so early.

"Hey, Dad!" I chirped brightly. "Cashmere socks! What do you think for Christmas? Or would you rather have the beef jerky?"

"Mmmpppphhh...I'll mpphh think about it mmmphhh," was the enthusiastic reply. I couldn't understand why my Dad wasn't more excited about the prospect of cashmere socks. They had seamless toes and were ribbed for a dressier look. Hmmm. I decided to put my dad out of his misery.

"Okay Dad, I'll call you later. Byeeee!!" I said.

"Mmmpphh," he replied and hung up the phone.

Perhaps I get more excited about the prospect of the holidays because I remember last year when I tried to cook the entire Thanksgiving dinner by myself for 17 people. I pooped out after attempting to make the seventh side dish.

"Screw this, everyone hates the green bean casserole anyways!!" I told my mom. She only laughed at me.

So now it is almost September and my daughter asked me, "What are we doing for Halloween?" I rub my hands with glee at the prospect of indoctrinating my daughter to the ways of "Holidays with Mir".

"Many things, my child, many things..."