Looking for a warm Christmas message? Then don't read this

It's Christmas eve and I'm exhausted.

I have decorated inside and out. 

I have shopped and shopped and then wondered if I forgot anyone. 

I have spent too much money. I have shrugged when my husband said it wasn't enough and then laughed when he blanched at the resulting register receipt. (What can I say, he's a generous guy :) 

I have wrapped and wrapped. And wrapped some more. 

I have vacuumed needles. I have hosted dinner. I have washed dishes.  

I have arranged sitters for the dogs and had them groomed (the dogs, not the sitters) so they won't stink up my in-law's house. 

I have negotiated schedules and commiserated with others who also have too many places to be in too little time. 

And I still feel like I haven't done enough.

The Fight for a Wonder-full Life

Today is Friday. It's Advent, the time leading up to Christmas. A time of waiting. Anticipation.

This is a lovely time of year. Carols. Christmas lights. Parties. Gifts. Food. Time with friends and family. Timeless movies like It's a Wonderful Life.

The "most wonderful time of the year," right?

Christmas can be a wonderful time of joy, of giving and receiving good things. But, sometimes, it is not so wonderful. Sometimes, it is a time of sadness, of loss.

Dear Mom - Halloween is fun, don't be a jerk

There are a bunch of people out there who want to suck the fun out of everything. Especially Halloween.

Some people want to ignore Halloween all together, or maybe worse, hand out religious tracts instead of candy. I'm not sure what they're trying to prove, but if they're trying to show love, that really isn't the way to do it.

Other people suck  the fun out of Halloween by being uber obsessive about it. They start months in advance planning complicated and expensive costumes for the whole family, and get whacked out if everyone isn't onboard because they might not win the contest.

Both of those are kind of scary and the opposite of fun.

Back in my day, (here I go sounding old) my religiously conservative family saw no problem dressing up for Halloween and going Trick or Treating. My parents didn't lecture us about Druids or create some faux alternative holiday.They also never told us what to wear or obsessed about winning any contests. We didn't plan much or spend much money. They just let my brother and me enjoy it for what it was:

An opportunity to dress up and have fun.

I Am Enough

What would you do if Oprah called and asked you to go on her network? To talk to millions of people as an authority on something, as a go-to person, as a professional expert?

I've often said I'm not an expert on anything. I just dabble at things. I know a little bit about a lot of things. But an 'expert'? Nope, you must be thinking of someone else.

I'm not even very consistent at the one thing I'm supposed to be good at: Writing.

Earlier this week, my husband sent me this message:

"Only one blog in September, and (horrors!) a big fat goose egg in October. You writing under a psuedonym???????"

Uh, no, I told him. I haven't been writing under any nym. I haven't been writing at all. Goose egg is right.

glow it all a way

Twenty-one years ago, September 4th was the Saturday before Labor Day.

It was hotter than the hinges on the gates of hell.

I know, because on 4 September 1993, I was wearing a long sleeved dress that weighed 30 pounds and that is something you remember.

When I put it on, the dress weighed 20 pounds. The extra 10 was sweat.

Wait, no, Southern women don't sweat. What's the saying? "Horses sweat, men perspire, ladies glow."

Ten pounds is a lot of glow.

And my, how I did. Glow, that is...

Throwing the Bouquet at St Stephens Episcopal Church

Friday Food: my darling clementine

The best clementines come from Spain, where all of the fruit is amazing. 

So says my Spanish daughter. 

I am sure it is true. But those clementines will not be here until Christmas. We must wait to confirm her truth.  

This clementine is here now, a small sweet wallop of flavor imported from Peru. 

For all the trouble it takes to get it here, it is amazingly easy to eat. 

Usually I have eaten one before I even notice, the simplicity of eating lost in a preoccupation with something else - reading, checking Facebook, talking, watching TV. I reach for another, the first having barely registered. 

But today, I decided to be intentional about my little clementine. 

Woman with an Orange, Jules Joseph Lefebvre (1836-1911)