An Irish Blessing

I don’t know why, but this year, despite my best intentions and my beautifully organized, updated-as-of-yesterday Christmas spreadsheet, I’m frazzled. I’ve got so many gifts and to do’s and not-necessarily-have-to-do’s-but-want-to-do’s in my head that I feel like any moment now, something could short-circuit. And it’s the Christmas cards that are pushing me right over the edge.

These should not have been an issue. I ordered them in September (and was pretty smug about it) and had every intention of prepping them so that on the day after Thanksgiving, I could hold my head up high and proudly walk into the post office to send them on their way. Best laid plans…that didn’t happen.

So I’ve decided that 2010 will be the year of my cutting down on the card list. It just has to be done. I’m quite sure that no one’s self-esteem will crumble if they don’t receive The Boy’s picture in the mail, nor will their world fall apart if they don’t peer at my “xo Michelle” sign-off. Instead, I’m taking a moment now to send these beautiful words out to all those who touch my life. If you don’t get my card in the mail, please don’t take it personally. I love you. I think you’re fabulous. I just don’t have the organization or sense of calm needed right now to be as productive as I should be. Instead, I send these well wishes for your Christmas or holiday season, in the form of an Irish Blessing, which I found today in “The Catholic Home” by Meredith Gould:

“The light of the Christmas star to you

The warmth of home and hearth to you

The cheer and goodwill of friends to you

The hope of a childlike heart to you

The joy of a thousand angels to you

The love of the Son and

God’s peace to you.”

 

How are you making your holiday season less stressful this year? Share your secret, and let’s all enjoy letting ourselves off the hook!

Let The Week Begin With A Double Shot

Good morning, friends…Happy Monday! I’m looking forward to a day of preschool drop-off; bathrobe-hunting (The Boy’s a shepherd in the Christmas pageant; costuming requirements = one bathrobe and one small towel); mid-morning meet-up with a dear friend; afternoon play date; and then perhaps a run to Old Navy for a new Christmas sweater. None of that can happen, of course, if this doesn’t…

Off to caffeinate. Enjoy your day…we’ll talk soon!

Ode to A Fine Lady

This little one was born some time ago: my grandfather’s younger sister, Lena. She lived a wonderful life, married a good man, had four great kids, who had great kids, who’ve since had great kids. She passed recently, ending her time here with one family, and reuniting with another. Perpetual light shall no doubt shine upon her, but boy, will she be missed. She had a beautiful smile, an effervescent personality, and an energy that put gals half her age to shame (including me).

Aunt Lee, Friday afternoons, circa 1975, at your fancy small-town hair salon, will always remain dear to my heart. While waiting for my Nonni and Nonna (Aunt Lee’s sister-in-law and mom) to get all gussied up for bingo, my Aunt Lee always let me creep up to her private bathroom and select one of her personal stash of nail polishes for my mini-manicure. Here's to you, Auntie Lee. You have my heart.

It's A Marshmallow World

Aaaaah, December. How I love thee. And not because I skate like Dorothy Hamill (does that reference date me?) or navigate a slope like...ah, who's that kid?...oh yeah, Shaun White. If I put on a pair of blades I'd be down in a nanosecond. And snowboarding? I figure if the Good Lord wanted me to race down a mountain at any sort of speed, he'd have made my feet wider and flatter. No, I love you because I'm lazy.

I'm ready to hibernate, and I'm waiting for the first snowy day to turn my world into that "marshmallow" snow globe that Sir Deano sings about on my favorite holiday album. Yes, I want to wake up to see soft flakes falling on a Saturday morning. I don't have to haul my, ah, backside anywhere early on a Saturday, so I can flop around in my slippers just that much longer.



I want to bring out any candle that goes by the name of "Holiday Cookie," "Evergreen," or "Apple Wreath," touch it lightly with a small flame, and let its scent fill up the hallways of my home.

If I venture outside, it will be in my big fuzzy boots and my warm winter jacket. My car will point in the direction of the nearest Dunkaccino, which I will pick up, pop in my cup-holder, and drive directly home lest it get cold. "Holly Jolly Christmas" and "Do You Hear What I Hear?" will play in the background throughout the afternoon while I wrap all my presents with real ribbon.

I will string sparkly silver ornaments along my mantle and roll pine cones (thank you, Kristin) in white glitter to bring all the wonder inside. Some warm, hearty stew will be simmering in the crockpot because on this perfect day, I have thought of everything.

That first snowy night, I will curl up on the sofa with a hot cup of coffee (oh, don't doubt it: I've built up such a caffeine tolerance that I can pretty much have a cup just before 8 and still be out by 9:30) and "The Shop Around the Corner," my favorite classic Christmas flick, on the tele.

Where's The Boy through all of this, you ask? Well, of course, he's out with The Husband picking out the absolute perfect, most meaningful Christmas gift for Mom. Well, let's just leave it at "they're out."

So c'mon, snow. Let's go. I'm ready for you.