Happy Christmas!

I know "Merry Christmas!" is the standard greeting in the U.S., but I've decided that, for this year at least, I prefer the British version. The term "merry" can imply that we're making merry, and that could mean we're just putting on a brave face, digging a bit too much into the egg nog or cinnamon schnapps, eating too many stale cookies, buying too much stuff, and falling into excess in an attempt to "look" happy.

Thanks for the photo, Microsoft Office!

"Happy" suggests a very different emotion. It's one of bliss, of warm fuzzies as one walks through a normal day. Of skipping a bit more, of going about one's normal life with a permanent enigmatic smile, a smile that brightens everyone's day without one even realizing it. Happy is a state of being that transcends the ordinary life, imbuing everything with a bit more sunshine.

So I'm raising my coffee this morning--and to every morning from now until next Christmas--to just being happy. To living with a little quiet joy every single day. To doing something truly beautiful with at least a few of the moments we are given. To fitting beauty and happiness into our daily lives, despite family obligations, work, and other have-tos. To feeling blessed with a bit more sunshine on our hair, despite the rain outside or the cold wind blowing.

Happy Christmas, everyone! And a lovely New Year, too!

Screaming

The bay door closes

The cacophony begins

Two little ones

Tired of sitting on their mothers' laps

Begin the wail of wails.

Mothers hush to no effect

Their voices taking turns with screams and cries

Which echo through the cabin

Curling all the hairs on necks

Of those without Bose headphones

Or hearing aids (turned down).

No use for it

No getting off

We can't just land the plane

And let the babies crawl around a bit

Nor can we get them sleeping

Their ear infection keeps them raging on

Four hours whine by

Grating, setting every nerve on edge

And as we stand to trudge on down the aisle

One passenger lies, "Your baby was so good!"

I fight the urge to flick her in the head.

Dear relatives,

Who want to see your lovely nieces'/nephews'/grandbabies' faces

Who nag and nag by phone to get a visit

Next time you feel the urge to nag

Do all of us a favor

Buy yourself a ticket

Get your own maturer self onto a plane

And go to see the family babies

To spare us all the torture.

Mini-Vacation

I know, it's Thursday. You have work. You have family to deal with. The kids aren't in school, and they are driving you nuts. But just sit back for a moment and close your eyes. Forget all your cares, forget the laundry (oops--you probably had forgotten about the laundry! Sorry!), forget all your obligations. Where do you really want to be? Can you put yourself there? Just for a moment? Can you have a mini-staycation for a moment?

Try it.

I'm trying it out right now. I'm in a tiny room filled with books and aged wood (just take a whiff), and the softest recliner is beckoning to me. My laptop sits there on the arm, also beckoning. Classical music drifts through the quaking aspens outside the open window, making their leaves sparkle as they flutter. I sit down, and the breeze slips around me. I start to write, with only the wind and leaves and soft music and smells of books and wood to remind me I'm not adrift in the clouds themselves. No kids, no pets, no noise but these... 

Okay, five minutes is up. Got to go make waffles for the kids. But it was nice. 

And now it's your turn. Spend five minutes, think it up, and write it down.