Every year around December 22nd, the error of my procrastinating ways comes around to bitch slap me into the realization that Christmas is three days away. At this point, my "whatever" attitude toward those who shop the sales and have the whole event in the can by mid-October morphs into a deep and abiding respect for organized people and how easy their lives seem to be. Somehow, in spite of genetic predisposition toward organized living, my youngest brother and I managed to become two of the most haphazardly happy slobs people in the world. Bubba, the middle one, can put his finger on the very first dollar that he ever made and tell you where it's been since he moved out of my parents' house. I guess the organized gene is a recessive one and I was lucky enough to get the homozygous dose.

My work on the house has been a never ending saga that began in earnest just a few short years ago and has stopped and started a million times, at least. It is still not done, though it could have been. However, I am traveling the slow road to gettin' my shit together which involves hours spent examining the contents of boxes and deciding on keepers. That's why the molding in the bathroom is still unpainted and the cabinets doorless. There are treasures that need to be separated and wrapped in tissue for the little girl who received them, now a woman about to begin life on her own. I remember when my mother packed up the contents of my room and sent it to my new apartment for me to mull over while she enjoyed the much needed space. It was kind of the beginning of that nagging feeling that we are all somewhere on the road to becoming orphans. And that? Just made me plain old scared.

My big dreams about making homemade gifts has turned into a mad dash to the photo center to pick up prints amongst the holidy crowds. WHY did I not do that a month ago? I've got two double chocolate pound cakes in the oven because, well, some things are traditional and folks come to expect them...like the crew up at the Plaza Food Store where I shop every day, at least once a day. Let's just say if I didn't turn up with the cake, they wouldn't believe in the spirit of Christmas.

And NO. Those prints aren't framed yet but they will be. I'll be at the sawmill on Christmas Day and the day after. So much for the great sales! That's okay. I wouldn't have braved it anyway. Right now the very best thing Santa could bring me is a day to do nothing but lay in the bed with a book and my dogs.

Maybe next year.

Merry Christmas to all of you who drop by here to visit or comment or just lurk. I pray that your holiday time with family and friends is filled with the spirit of love and joy that this season represents.

^j^