Today would mark the 83rd birthday of former Orioles infielder Billy Klaus, who passed away in 2006 due to lung cancer. It's pretty fitting that a guy named Klaus has a birthday in the middle of December. This is one of those years in which I've had a more difficult time getting into the the usual throes of Christmas joy and excitement. I've watched a few of my favorite holiday specials (Blackadder's Christmas Carol, Futurama, etc.), but I'm way behind on that count. I haven't put up my small artificial tree, because I haven't fully formulated a plan of attack for keeping the cats off of it. (I'm particularly concerned about Homer, who is fascinated by shoelaces, to say nothing of shiny dangling baubles.) I still have a few gifts to buy for family, I haven't had my first glass of egg nog or bite of a festive-looking cookie, and my holiday mix CDs haven't been transported to the car. That's not to say that I'm feeling Scroogey, it's just that December 25 is sneaking up on me this year. It's still far and away my favorite holiday; I'll just have to do some major yuletide cramming over the next two weeks. That shouldn't be a problem for a procrastinator like me.
