Crazy for Gift Cards!

The holidays are here...again. My, how this year has sped on by. You didn't blink, did you? Yep. Me too.
By now you are surely knee-deep in shopping, hunting down the perfect stocking-stuffers and the like. Sometimes the ideal gift for that special person in your life is the freedom to choose exactly what they'd like to receive. Gift cards can often do the trick, especially when you just can't decide what to get. That's why I really enjoy this hop. There are so many great blogs participating. See for yourself: http://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=167042 Thanks to Kathy at I'm a Reader Not a Writer for her hard work in putting this hop together. Check out the Rafflecopter below (see more) for your chance to win a $10.00 Barnes & Noble e-gift card.

I hope you're taking some time to relax a midst the hustle and bustle. Perhaps carve out an evening or two to sit and enjoy a few of your favorite holiday movies. I'm especially fond of "The Miracle on 34th Street," "Elf" and "A Christmas Story." Be sure to take a minute to leave a comment here, sharing your own personal fave.

This week I'm taking a trip into NY city to see the Nutcracker Ballet. It's been nearly a lifetime since I've seen this show and I'm super-excited to see it again. This performance reminds me that there is more to the holiday season than just go-go-go, buy-buy-buy. The holidays are really about recalling what it is that defines Christmas for each one of us. It's revisiting a cherished childhood memory, and creating some new ones along the way. It's about touching base with our beliefs, discovering our hearts again with a little wonder mixed in for good measure.

As the remainder of 2012 winds down, remember to indulge in some reflective moments each and every day. And don't forget to read a good book or two or three! (They aren't just for crafting...)

Middle (r)Aged

I'm shooting the breeze with a friend over lunch, discussing the typical cache of topics ranging from gel polish to world peace when she halts, almost mid-sentence and emits a deep sigh.

"What?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. I mean, what does it matter? Does any of it really matter?" She muses.

"I don't follow."

"Nothing. I don't know. It is what it is, right? Ugh. I hate that expression, by the way. What does it even mean?"

I shrug. "Are you okay?"

She shakes her head from side to side as if it's gone loose at the neck and needs tightening. "Not really. It seems like ever since I turned forty I've become way more...more..."

"More what?"

"I don't know..."

"Introspective? Existential?" I suggest, attempting to help her along.

"No..."

"Blase'? Uninspired?"

"No. That's not it!" She says and then sighs again. "I'm just, just, ya' know..."

"Cranky?" I try.

"That's IT!" She exclaims. "Why do you suppose that is? I mean, I know OLD people get like that, but, I'm not old yet. Is this how it's supposed to be?"

"Relax," I tell her. "It's perfectly normal. Haven't you ever heard of Middle Rage?"

"Middle Age?"

"No. Middle Rage. Oh, it's nothing new. Been around since the stone age."

"Really??"

"Sure. Why do you think they stopped filming The Flintstones? Once Betty and Wilma hit the big 4-0, they got too crabby for TV. Not to mention the scandals."

"What scandals?"

"I'm told Betty and Barney suffered an awful acrimonious split and Wilma had a torrid affair with Mr. Slate. It rocked the socks off the quarry. All due to Middle Rage."

"Wow," she says. "That's crazy. I can't believe I was never aware of this. Is there anything a person can do to avoid it?"

"Fraid not," I say. "You just have to tough it out. You'll have good days and bad. It's like riding a roller coaster. Sometimes you'll be sitting calmly on the track and other times you'll be flying through the air doing 90, screeching like a madman."

"But it gets better, eventually, doesn't it?" She's on the verge of tears now. Far be it for me to be the bearer of bad news. And yet...it won't do her any good to feed her delusions, give her false hope. I slowly shake my head. Break it to her as gently as I can. "Middle Rage ultimately turns into Old Rage. It's a natural progression." I reach my hand out to hers, tap it softly. "There, there. No sense getting upset over it."

Her eyes meet mine.

"It is what it is," I whisper.

"Ugh. I was really hoping it wasn't terminal. The holidays are here and I did so want to be jolly."

"Oh, that's no problem. They invented eggnog for this exact reason. Just have to double up. You'll be good as new."

"Thank goodness!" She says. I can see the relief wash over her. For the moment she's her young self again. Sweet, gentle, kind, waiting on the track. And then she leans in, lowers her voice. "I always knew that Wilma was a fast number!"

And we're off.