Kneading Dough

I love December, for its solitude, its joy, its encouragement to snuggle, its excuses to drink more coffee, its silent nights. The year ends as seems fitting - with an acceptance by the world to slow down. An acceptance to take time for yourself and your loved ones.

How amazing it is to combine all of this grace and allowance with waffle iron incidents at Wal-Mart (where people get hit in the head with such objects) and any other silly, ludicrous holiday rage that exists. We trample; we pull hairs - ours and those of others; we knead too much dough; we over-commit to engagements; we overspend; and we end up wondering where in the hell Christmas went by New Year's.

If I could sit down in a monastery, a historic church pew, or a lotus position among smiling, tranquil faces for the entire month of December, I would. I would declare gift-making to be the only acceptable form of shopping. Insist that every person has two weeks off, to knit, read, sew, swim, bake in the sun, or what have you.


I would tell everyone to sing a song each night, to dance round the kitchen while baking, and to hold your babies like you'd never let go.

Peace, joy, and love to all this Christmas (as cheesy as that sounds).