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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Christmas Musings...

Christmas is just days away. 

Lentils are steaming on my stovetop. The piles of receipts, utility bills and statements for the year 2011 have been sorted and put in their proper place. My huge piles of books have been re-sorted and placed in more appropriate piles/areas. My clothes are hung in my closet rather than draped upon the HUGE Mount Clothing that tends to accumulate. Actually, Mount Clothing is a triple peak behemoth. One truly dirty sheer-face, one gently worn mount, and one even more gently worn hill. Hey, It's a system. It works. It's not pretty like the Rockies, but I don't know anyone who'd take Christmas card pictures in anyone's closet, no matter how nice it is. So, there it is. 

My friend suggested taking in a little play tomorrow night. My answer was this. " If I didn’t have a houseful of people coming on Saturday and DID have dust bunnies corralled and Christmas decorations up, and food further along in the process than vain imaginings….I’d be oh, so tempted. Oh, so. If I experience a Christmas miracle tonight wherein dust bunnies are slain, decorations throw themselves on trees, in windows, on doors, and somehow three bubbly delicious soups merge ingredients in preparation for Friday night Crockpot saunas, I’ll let you know tomorrow. Somehow, I think this is just a sugar-plum-bashing-repeatedly-into-my-skull-kind of dream. But, hey! I’m an optimist."

So. Right now. At 7:18 p.m. I have yet to see a fairy with a wand, or any elves. (My Mom is going to feel guilty when she reads this. She keeps offering to help, sweet, sweet woman that she is. I considered it. But. As I pondered which insane, Martha cartoonish moment I might thrust her into, I came to my senses and I just thanked her for the offer to bring tomato soup and a few other goodies on Christmas Eve. I think she's paid her dues. There was the Christmas Eve that Toad-Boy tried to chop the tip of his finger off while making Christmas gifts after all.) Thanks, Mom. 

My life is crazy, but it's a familiar crazy. And. Good news. My closet is clean, and my paper is organized. And darn it. I've got lentils done, at least five other things partially done, a dozen more just a few steps away from done. And I do hear a kitchen floor elf sawing and pounding as I type this. I won't be hitting the play, but I'm pretty darn sure there's some fairy dust somewhere in one of the corners I haven't started decorating. 

If I don't get back to the blog before Christmas. Here's wishing you a Merry, Merry, Merry and stress free Christmas.

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