Well. It's December. That joyous time of year when most of the questions I receive in an 10 hour workday will go something like, "I'm looking for a book. I don't know what it's called or who the author is or what it's about, but I think it was maybe ::::motions with hands:::: this big," and I have to forcibly restrain myself from responding with, "Well, let me just get out my handy book-size-ometer and pull that up for you right away!" as the ten other people in line shift uncomfortably and resign themselves to wait even longer. (It should be noted that this, precisely, is the reason I started working with children. Because children do not ask inane questions like this. If you are shopping with a child and these words exit your mouth, chances are they are rolling their eyes and exchanging knowing glances with me. Sure they have a whole other series of bizarre ways of describing what they so desperately long for: highly detailed scenes from a single page of a large and obscure book, cover art, which animals talk and which do not, etc.-- but they are nothing if not specific, and I seem to have a knack for knowing they they mean.)
I can't bring myself to complain about anything else. Retail in December is retail in December. And it really doesn't matter, because oh my gosh you guys I LOVE DECEMBER. When I asked our neighborhood Christmas tree guy for 16 feet of garland to adorn our 9 foot mantle, Aaron may have been alarmed, but not surprised. These things I have learned about myself in regards to the Christmas holidays: I will want to buy a shiny new dress every year for a hypothetical Christmas party that does not exist anywhere but in my brain. I will talk big about making all of my Christmas presents with scrap fabric and in the end will make NONE presents. I will run out of Christmas cards. I will opt for baked goods as gifts but will put the baking off until the last minute. I will run around making no sense for three weeks, but will be surprisingly cheerful.
This is all to say that I probably need another December obligation like a fish needs a bicycle (Hello 52 Weeks? at this rate, it will take me 85 weeks to complete.), but I couldn't help but make an exception. Molly and Emily, the amazing women behind Habit, have asked all of their guests from the past year to to join in posting for the month of December. So much has changed in these here parts since I was a guest-poster in February of last year, and I truly cannot wait to see how it will unfold. Magic, I am thinking. If you ever dreamed of attending a holiday party with all of your best internet friends that lasted for an entire month, this is your opportunity. You should visit. It will be off the hook. Maybe I should buy a shiny new dress?