Walk down memory lane

Some life events will always have a memory attached to them. For me, one of those -- strange as it may sound -- is getting french toast sticks from Burger King.

This morning -- as happens once in a while -- I got a craving for BK's french toast sticks on my way to work. And so I indulged.

When I was little, my mom and I had a morning ritual of eating breakfast at Burger King before our busy days started. I was four and attending pre-school in Knoxville at a tiny little school on the edge of the University of Tennessee's campus. Both of my parents were going back to school at that time, and my mother would take me to pre-school every day. But first, we'd make a stop at the Burger King on top of the hill.

We'd sit, morning after morning, stuffing our faces with the delectable sugar sticks and talking. I loved those conversations with my mommy. And then she would take my hand and walk me down the hill to school.

Every day seemed a little bit better because of my french toast sticks and my mother's love.

It's Christmas time in the city

The star stands firm in its spot at the top of the Christmas tree. The presents lure and taunt from beneath.

Morning frost paints the earth a glistening mirror.

Lights wind 'round and 'round light poles and stretch across rooftops, twinkling their greeting.

"Santa Baby" and "The Nutcracker" provide the music for every other commercial on television.

All I can think about is hot chocolate and cookies. Ornaments and sleighs. My savior and his birth.

Oh, how I love Christmas.

Is it a sacrifice if I enjoy it?

I think life is about sacrifices. Some are bigger than others, some more monumental, some with greater consequences. Some are easier to make than others. But each day that unfolds carries with it a promise of more sacrifices.

We sacrifice money, time, love, possessions, blood, sweat, tears, ourselves -- in different doses to different people.

We take time away from one person to give to another. We sacrifice ethics, morals, values to get farther in life. We burn bridges just in the nick of time to cling to what's left of them to get to the other side.

We sacrifice health to push ourselves to live longer, more caffienated, Rolodexed lives. We sacrifice marriages in the pursuit of a moment of tantalizing pleasure.

We sacrifice the flat screen TVs and the new sports car for meals for the family and a minivan.

We sacrifice in the form of compromise to please another.

Life is a precarious balance of healthy sacrifices and the ones that slice into who we are and bleed us dry.

If I could, I would

I wish I could be like the earth after a storm, everything washed clean away, everything renewed.

I wish I could be like the flame that dances and tantalizes and jumps and sways so vigorously and then, when it's extinguished, it's forgotten.

I wish I could be like a feather or a leaf floating on the breeze, direction unimportant. No GPS required.

I wish I could be the stream running, pushing, moving toward freedom.

I wish I could be impulsive.

When it comes down to it, I'm the world's most selfish person

I want material things. More shoes. Better clothes. I can't seem to amass enough jeans and heels and and dresses to be satisfied. I fall for the trap of obsessing over name brands. I'm kidding no one; I'm a label whore.

I want to be a better person. Someone you'll like, someone you'll trust, someone you'll turn to. Someone you admire.

I want to get over my insecurities. I want to walk tall, chin up with confidence. I want to be void of all doubts.

I want to be more giving, more altruistic. A better Christian, a better giver of time and resources.

I want the excellent job with the big paycheck. I want the name recognition and the monetary reward.

I want you to think I'm beautiful.

I want to be a mother. I want a housefull of children. I want to be at least a fraction of how good a mother my mother was.

I want it all.

Words of wisdom

Make sure you have all necessary ingredients before embarking on a cooking endeavor.

Laugh. All the time.

Question everything. Some of the time.

Know your audience.

Never decline ice cream. Or a game of Scrabble.

Cherish it all.

I'm thankful...

For family that knows me inside and out and loves me just the same.
For friends who put up with my bipolar, OCD, unstable, obnoxiously loud self.
For rain.
For homecooked meals.
For stories that get told over and over again and never get old.
For health.
For reruns of Friends.
For sweet tea.
For love stories.
For good books, especially ones with happy endings.
For the soundtrack of my life.
For photographs.
For assurance from you.
For life's never-ending surprises.
For movies I can recite by heart (Empire Records, anyone?).
For hope.