As I added something to my Amazon wish list, I noted a reference to Rufus Wainwright, and I realized I�ve done you all a grievous error by not mentioning the lovely episode of Acoustic Caf� featuring Loudon Wainwright. It was a Sunday. I was in the car, listening to The Whip, when Loudon played and sang �Hank and Fred,� a song about him driving around Montgomery with Steve Buscemi, headed to a Hank Williams museum, hearing on NPR that Fred Rogers had died. (Song�s about 5/6 of the way through his segment, if you want to fish for it. And if you can stand the tinkling bells in the background, which evidently prevent us from downloading and copying the song.)

It was gorgeous, hilarious and haunting. Of course I cried. It�s not on an album yet. And now I�m listening again.

Last week I was digging the new Paul Burch, borrowed though it is. And Coach rang me last night from her other job to play a wee bit of Slaid Cleaves� new album, Wishbone, over the phone. It�s out in March, and it sounds lovely.

I am optimistic that my eldest sister (who announced that she�d drawn my name for the family exchange�which upsets me in the lack of surprise and pleases me that she�ll get what I need) will be giving me at least one new CD. Still, don�t expect any list of the top albums of the year from me. No way. Not only do I refuse to succumb to such self-important ego stroking, but also I haven�t really been able to purchase any new music this year, so it�d all be hearsay anyway. Yep.

Well. I swear I was full of good holiday cheer for approximately 2 1/2 days last week. Coincidence that that timeline coincides with the worst midweek hangover ever? I think not. But oh, how I loved the world that night, as we sat in the mother ship, making friends and drinking. How magnanimous was my good will toward all. And then, well, a sinus infection hit. After spending yesterday in the doctor�s office and dealing with the incredibly frustrating, HMO-mandated pharmacy monopoly, I was sliding downward quickly.

Oprah did me in.

It was her annual �My Favorite Things� episode, the one episode full of �gift ideas� that does nothing but prove how in touch she is with those North Shore millionaires� wives. It was an episode full of models prancing about in pastel-colored $398 cashmere sweaters by Ralph Lauren and matching pastel shearling Ugg boots. $500 watches that Madonna adores. A $1,000 video camera that records onto DVDs. Sigh. I guess my spirit is fed by pretty things every now and again (yes! Send pretty things!), but in a season when so many are trying to make do with less, it�s obnoxious. Yes, Oprah has done, and maybe continues to do, nice and generous things. But she�s so out of touch.

Here I would make a transition into politics and mention state and world events, but I don�t feel good. All this typing�s hard on my sore throat. Time for my meds. I must be healthy for our Old 97s show in Chicago next month.