I like traditions.
I like the fact that every single person invited to a Christmas party feels compelled to bring homemade fudge.
I don't like what that fudge does to my waistline. Stupid sugar and butter. Darn you.
I like Zebra Cakes dolled up to look like Christmas trees. I'm a 10 on the classy scale.
I can't eat those anymore due to a tragic allergy to wheat I seem to have developed, but they weren't great for my waistline either.
I like handmade ornaments and the way Dean Martin croons Silent Night.
I even thoroughly enjoy the process of botching up our yearly gingerbread house endeavors.
On that note... remember Leah? One year, all six of us kids worked for hours on a gingerbread mansion - pretty much any kind of candy you can think of was painstakingly plastered to the walls and roof of that house. The whole creation was a gorgeous mass of swooping swirling sugar and Christmas.
And that kid ate it.
I kid you not. Our gingerbread house slowly disappeared over the course of a week, one bite at a time.
At first it was a mystery, but finally we caught the little munchkin at it. She waited until everyone had gone to bed and then toddled into the kitchen and to the top of a stool to load up on peppermints, icing and twizzlers. I can't prove anything but I'm pretty sure she stockpiled whatever part of her harvest couldn't stomach at the time in a forgotten diaper bag. Again, I can't prove it...it's a gut instinct. I'm also fairly certain Olivia was a behind the scenes accomplice.
I mean...look at those two. Guilty is written all over their faces.
Anyway, I digress. There have already been conversations in my family, not many, but the beginnings of bubbling discussions regarding Christmas gatherings, who is claiming what date for parties, who is heading up gift exchanges, you know the drill, and it's August. I want so badly to just enjoy the impending holidays, from the crisp in the air and the celebratory buzz that begins in October to the cozy internal warmth December ushers in.
But that's where I start to lose focus.
I inevitably get so caught up in planning how to have a good time in three months, that I forget to enjoy right now. That tendency to forget to be thankful for today? That is the number one way I create regrets. I forfeit the blessing I've been given in having today by focusing on things far away.
So here are the facts...
It's the 21st of August. The mornings are cool, the evenings are cool, the afternoons are hot. Today the sky was the most gorgeous shade of deep summer blue I've seen in a long, long time. It is the perfect weather for grabbing a quilt, a book and if possible an inviting field.
If you figure out how to literally grab a field, please let me know how that goes.
I'm making conscious efforts to seize the day, and by that I mean enjoy where I am. Soak up today and appreciate it for what it is. Let the planners plan, I'm sure I'll get sucked in and become a key participant at some point, but for now I am enjoying August.
Trust me, I'll get my Christmas on when the time is right.
My poor husband.
I'm out,
Rae
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