I would declare a Beauty Day. Everyone would stay home and do beauty treatments all day long (except for a visit to the Russian Turkish Baths to sweat for a few hours!)

Tummy time! Schvitzing! Bravo!

My holiday will be tomorrow: Players Day. I won't be at work. I'll be at the Players Club.

I declare "Teach Babies about the Wonders of Electricity Day."

I generally stay home on my birthday, dressed in my kingly robes, holding my scepter, and loudly proclaim it to be "It's-good-to-be-the-King Day" to all within earshot.

Yes, the pets and I have a grand time on that day, let me tell you.

My holiday will be "Catch up on movies day." Whether you spend it at home with your DVD player or at the local cineplex is up to you, kind of like the choice between ham and turkey on Thanksgiving.

I think we'll celebrate it in early Feb., when the weather sucks and it's nice to spend a day indoors.

(Actually, any time I take a week off work and am not going somewhere, I try to spend one day like this, no matter what time of year it is.)

Here's a Present; Want a Cookie? Day. That is what I would celebrate. Essentially, you get presents and offered cookies. When I was a child, I told my mother that's probably what heaven was: Here's a present! Want a cookie? I still like the concept.

I think today might be a mental health day for yours truly. I bought shoes and shirts.

I would like a cookie, crush! I would also like to catch up on movies. And have beauty. And hang out at the Player's Club. (I thought that was just an outdated credit card.) And have a mental health day. And carry a scepter. I'd also like to teach babies about electricity, but I'll settle for keeping them from eating cat food.

Would it be OK to have one day for self-indulgent morose-ness? If so, that's for me.

Otherwise, I'll have a cookie too, please.

I think you're thinking of Diners Club cards, jrossi4r; you'd be surprised at how common they are. There are two kinds, both issued by Diners Club International: T&E (charge) accounts, and credit card (revolving) accounts. Charge cards require that the entire balance be paid in full at the end of each billing cycle; credit cards don't (borrowers may keep a balance from month to month). In August, my employer booked about $754,426,053 in ending net receivables from Diners accounts, both charge and credit. They carry a marvelously low probability of default (0.91%).

But enough about work; tomorrow's my holiday! A friend and I are leading a group of International Center members on a tour of Gramercy Park, including the Players and the National Arts Clubs, Teddy Roosevelt's birthplace, and the park itself.

Yeah, so I went on about this the other day. I'm repeating myself! BLAH!

My holiday wouldn't be as widely celebrated in California as it was in Texas (because here we have seasons): Thank God, The Summer Just Broke.

This is the day when the first cool front moves in and muggy gives way to cool and stormy. I always rushed home from work on TGTSJB Day to make the first pot of soup of the year.

When I lived in Maryland, on TGTSJB Day we'd jump in the car and race to the Landing Road cider mill to get all sugared up on apple cider. Usually when our summer broke, though, it wouldn't be quite so stormy as it was cool and crisp, so a cup of hot mulled cider and a stroll through the pumpkin patch was always in the offing on TGTSJB Day.

Now they're developing the orchard and the cider mill is shut, but it sure made growing up fun. The cider mill and the Renaissance festival were both in woods nearby.

Ha! mudpuppie: we celebrated that day in college, as well as the Day the Sun Killed Spring.

Damn, I coulda made a fortune off of greeting cards....

Don't tell, but I'm having a girl-bonding Vegas weekend planned too last minute to get off work honestly (but I am NOT. NEEDED. anyway) so I lied, lied, lied.

So it's a Four Day Mom's Hysterectomy Holiday Weekend!

I picked this excuse because it already happened, so I can't freak out from guilt if it happens later, and hey, she never told me at the time because I was 14 and it was the result of a failed abortion attempt of an ectopic pregnancy. I have to cope with the shock. By playing blackjack.

My eponymous holiday: Dead Cow Day. The celebration of said day could become somewhat messy, so participation is voluntary.

You just got Madonna's "Holiday" stuck in my head, so I hate you all.

Just one day out of life! It would be, it would be so nice!

It doesn't have to be a Holiday, occhiblu; why not just a Celebration? Celebrate good times, come on!

I want a Small Day!

This is where you eat small foods (pearl mozzarella, mini-quiches, grape tomatoes, wild strawberries, pocket shots of liquor), wear small clothes (bikini, hotpants, those tiny Chinese slippers, tiny barettes), and play The Small Game (where you lay down on your stomach in the grass and imagine yourself to be 1/4" tall and explore the convolutions of a dead leaf and climb a blade of grass and take a nap on a tussock of moss).

Mine is announced in maybe late June, early July. You don't know very far in advance that it's coming - you wake up and hear your favorite morning radio host say "It's here - you made it - today is Beach Day!"

Woohoo! you shout, leaping out of bed, and scrambling together your swimsuit, towel, blanket, beach chair, and fluffy literature. There's no work on Beach Day. It's 88 degrees with an azure sky, totally clear, and a light breeze. You get up a gang and head for the beach, where you hang all day, alternately sleeping, chatting, reading, tossing a Frisbee, and eating French fries.

About 4:30 you take a last dip and start packing it in. After loading up the car you head for the beach bar, where you sit around a table on the outdoor patio and watch the plastic Corona flags wave gently in the breeze. You grow a little hazy on a margarita and wind your bare toes around the chairs, testing your skin with your fingers to see if you burned too much.

After some nachos it's time to get your place for the fireworks. Vendors distribute ice cream sandwiches and sparklers and you recline on your honey's lap and watch the sky explode.

Oh I like yours, Miko. Especially since there's nachos.

We just got back from our Rossi Day dinner. I had the All-You-Can-Eat crab legs. But it was NOT all I could eat because they brought them to me ONE AT A TIME. After the fifth time I asked for more, I started getting kind of self conscious. Still...yum, crab. And mr. rossi bought me a nice print off Etsy and is taking the day off tomorrow. Yay! It was a good Rossi Day.