Black is back

Guess what? Black nail polish is fashionable. I know! Weird!

I put some on, and I have to admit it feels strange. I haven't worn black nail polish since I was, oh, 11. And it wasn't because it was cool, no sirree.

But apparently now it's OK to wear black - it doesn't mean you're goth anymore! But there are rules. This isn't Nam. You have to keep your nails short. And it doesn't have to be just black - dark brown or maroon are OK, too.

Black (polish) power!

Ho ho hum

This year's Christmas season was sort of mixed for me. I was looking forward to Christmas like I always do, but I never really got the butterflies in my stomach or felt the magic -- even on Christmas Eve. Is that an adult thing? The weight of the world becomes so heavy that you focus more on how much it's going to cost, or worrying that you didn't get enough presents for your nephew to open? When I was little I used to get so excited on Christmas Eve I would eat way too much and throw up. I threw up three years in a row! Now I'm a little better at controlling my portions (although I think I'm still working off that "baby" fat), so I haven't vomited in a while. I also used to be the first one up, rousing everyone out of bed so we could get the party started. One year I woke up at 1 a.m. and tried to wake up my brother, Dallace. I played out in my mind how my mom would tell our neighbors that crazy ol Lindsay woke us all up in the middle of the night and we had Christmas PRETTY early. Well, that plan didn't really work. No one wanted to get up -- Dallace just rolled over again. And I eventually went back to sleep.

These days I cover my face with a pillow and pray for a few more minutes, then I get grumpy with everyone for not starting Christmas fast enough so I could go to work. Where did my Christmas spirit go? Do I need to go work at a soup kitchen or something to remember what it's like to feel peace and joy? Do I need to make all my presents by hand to make them more meaningful? What's the secret, Santa?

A bicycle built for one

Yesterday I saw a middle-aged couple/possibly retired riding their bikes together in Tempe. And I began to wonder why so many people - myself included - get joy out of riding a bike. I decided it's a number of things: 1) since so many people learn to ride in their childhood, it reminds them of being a kid. 2) the open air whooshing by is so much more enjoyable than the one you feel walking or driving, and 3) you get to see so many things up close that you normally miss if you usually drive.

I have a bike, but I don't go out as often as I'd like. It's red, with an automatic transmission, which means it changes gears for me. Yeah, it's pretty sweet. I am part of a Tempe bike gang called BONES. Maybe you've heard of it? Bikers of the Night East Side? No? OK. Anyway, we go on rides to freak out the establishment. It's pretty rad. My code name is Lady Death, and when I go on BONES rides I bring along a little skeleton lady I got at Target.

As far as the helmet issue goes, here's my thoughts: I probably should wear a helmet, and maybe one of these days I'll break down and buy one. But the problem is that the only helmets available for purchase are very unattractive, and though they are good for safety, not good for coolness. Someone should design a bike helmet with some style! I'll accept designs and choose a winner.