Before y’all jump down my ever-lovin’ throat about the “Xmas” thing, I will haughtily inform you that the early Christians actually used that abbreviation. Unless I just made that up or something. Check Snopes.com, the solver of all disputes.
Well, ahm TARD. You can always tell that I’m RAL TAHRD when I lapse into this hokey Southern accent. I think it’s comforting. It makes me feel like I’m rocking on someone’s front porch with a limeade in my hand, passing the time just telling stories, with a hound dog at my feet and a cotton quilt around my lap. Lord, oh Lord, let me plan a winter vacation.
Right now, though, I am frantically trying to organize the office and keep up with churchly matters and plan another worship service for Sunday (Unitarian Universalists, can I get a witness? About how totally brain-fryingly exhausting it is to plan and lead creative, unique liturgies every week?) and start filling in the winter worship and program calendar and and and and…
And then there’s my compulsive need to write, which is what I am doing between cleaning house, cooking and doing laundry these past couple of days. At least most of my gift-giving is done, although I still have Christmas cards to send. And I really do need and want to, as I went to the trouble of having cards made up and all.
I think I’ll buy myself this as a post-Christmas gift:
Ha ha! Of course I won’t! You’ll see me in Hades first! It’s darn cute, though. How about if I styled it with white jeans, a long white blouse with a stand-up collar and the shirt tails hanging out, 4″ lug platform Harley motorcycle boots, a messy updo and tough black headband and big black eyeliner? Now, that’s tempting.
Christmas Eve services were lovely. Except for the part when a component in our beautifully (and expensively!) restored organ BLEW UP or something, belching out smoke into the choir loft, scaring the baby Jesus out of us and stinking up the whole church. I will write about that later. There were teachable moments in how we all handled it that I need to share with my pigeons.
My dear friend Charlotte came over and did my hair for Christmas Eve! She lives in Germany now and asked me if I wanted an “Oktoberfest braid.” Of course I did!! Can I tell you how special it was to have someone come over and give me a special holiday hair do while I got all those butterflies in my tum? VERY special.
From the side:
From the front:
From the after-church collapse:
Darlin’, in the South you would say you are having a sinking spell. Only one cure–an ice-cold Co-Cola straight out of the 6 1/2 ounce bottle. Or a belt of moonshine, depending on the severity.
I’m seriously digging your hair. I love the idea of doing something special with your hair on an extra special day when your special outfit will be covered with robes.
I always love Christmas. As a double Pastor’s Kid Christmas Eve is traditionally an occasion my entire family dresses up for. Even when the rest of the congregation is really casual, even when the pews are ice cold, darned if me and my sisters don’t look fly. There is something about the majesty and wonder of the day that make me want to look my best.