Like everything in my Libra life, there is the constant balancing of the scales. Before Christmas, I worked hard; during Christmas, I played hard; and afterwards, I crashed hard.
I didn’t just turn into a Grinch; I’ve always been a Grinch.
It is not the family and fellowship that makes me Grinchy; I love that part. But rather, it’s the consumerism and decorating pressure that feels burdensome.
In my COVID fever fog last week, I heard through an open window the non-mechanical hacking of Grady splitting wood for our fireplace.
Prior to emails and the internet changing our lives, English teachers worried that writing was going to become a lost artform. Ma Bell had turned all of us into voice communicators, making lawyers the only letter writers left. In this school of thought, typing classes were dropped from many high school curriculums. But alas, the power of the pen is back, big time, along with keyboarding. It’s time to dust off the old grammar books and learn some new tricks on how to write a good email.
Has your Christmas cactus forgotten how to bloom?
Though this may sound like a metaphor for one’s aging brain, it is not. It is a serious question, pondered by many persons this time of year.