Christmas to-do list

Perform, as part of the choir, in four productions this weekend of "The Answer," Alice Drive Baptist's Christmas play.

Enjoy a weekend visit from my sister, my mother and Mel's sister.

Drive as many times as possible through the BEAUTIFUL light display at Swan Lake.

Drink lots of yummy flavored coffee and hot chocolate.

Enjoy an at-work Christmas party with co-workers on Tuesday. I can only hope that it will hold as much excitement as the Dunder Mifflin Christmas party. "Everyone in this room loves you. But mark my words, we are not going to support your alcoholism anymore. The next time you light yourself on fire, we are not going to help put you out."

Go to the mountains the weekend before Christmas and hopefully see some snow!

I'm singing in the rain...or not

Today was one of those days I SO wanted to stay in bed, cacooned in my warm, cozy bed. I could have stayed there, happily, all day long. Sleeping. Reading. Listening to the rain beating down on the roof and on the ground and shimmying off the leaves of the trees.

I love the rain. I just hate trying to be productive when it rains. When I'd rather be unproductive, lazy. Just listening to the rain.

Today I'll have to muster extra oomph to try to get my daily tasks accomplished. Everything will be just a teensy bit harder.

Follow the yellow brick road

Just follow the yellow brick road. No big deal. The blindingly fluorescent yellow bricks will lead you in the right direction. But what if there are no yellow bricks? What do you do then?

Follow instinct? Your gut? A certain intuition?

Or, better yet, what if there IS a yellow brick road, but it forks. Then what? Which path do you follow?

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.