Can’t we all just agree to disagree?

I think it is time I weighed in on a seriously controversial subject matter. We are being inundated with it on social media and main stream media as well as the obscure outlets. I know I have been drawn into some pretty heavy discussions over it. And while I try not to get pulled down to the depths of hysteria and, I’m shocked to admit, threats, I do have a very definite stand on the matter.

Of course I am talking about when it is politically correct to bring out the fall décor.

I know that you also, dear reader, have very strong opinions on the matter. No matter where you lie in the spectrum, I think it is something that we can talk about rationally and without any name calling. Let’s begin.

I absolutely have to start with hair. I have a very curly, tends-to-get-frizzy mop of hair. One hair consultant went as far as to say I could withstand 6 months of chemo and still have plenty of hair left on my head. Let’s pray it never comes to that. Now you are probably wondering what fall décor has to do with my hair. In a word: TONS. Call it the placebo effect, but when I am walking around my house with all of it’s bright, sunny, beachy decorations and summery candle scents in the air, my hair of course thinks it is still summer and frizziness ensues. But as soon as I start pulling out the dreamy deep yellows; calming burnt oranges, and deep red decorations, even my hair follicles relax.


I don’t really see what an actual date or month has to do with the unofficial start of fall décor season. I know that some of you are bristling at that pronouncement but let’s try to look at this as mature adults. Fall is really just a state of mind. (As well as the state of hair I discussed above.) There is something wondrously  wonderful about fall. It heralds the resting of the trees. Leaves slowly turning from their bright summer green coverings to comfy, sweater-inducing yellows, oranges, and browns. Just thinking about them turning has my eyes drooping in comforting sleepiness. There is a stillness that can be heard and felt throughout the ‘Hood. The lawn mowers end their continuous ruining of my quiet time on the porch. The joyous screams of laughter from the children turn to deep, low mumblings of surliness that the first days of a new school year bring. The area traffic turns from bumper-to-bumper weekend traffic to the more normal 24/7 bumper-to-bumper traffic that encourages us to stay in our homes.


I know, I know…some of you are sick of the Christmas decorations coming out in August at the Cracker Barrel, but honestly…is it really hurting anything? Why can’t we all just embrace Christmas year round? The presents! The food! The decorations! The softening of the heart! Did I mention the presents! It’s true. I was born a gift receiving loving girl. Over time, I realized that what I truly am is a gift giving loving girl. Yes. It is partly my choice. But I also feel that I was really meant to be a gift giver. It has taken me many years to transition over to it, but I think it is who I truly was born to be.


So, let’s all just try to get on the same page, shall we? It’s okay to be an early fall embracer; it’s also okay to not be. Please just stop pushing your summer-loving, short-sleeved wearing, has to wear a pony-tail to keep the frizzies down, grilling every night agenda on those of us who just want to cover up, snuggle in, and sip our hot toddies all the live long day.





Almost a week into January and here I sit…

Some things that are on my mind lately.

Yesterday at church, a sweet friend walked up to me and told me she loved my hair cut. I immediately started in with, “oh, I’ve already had to color it since I got it cut (and colored) three weeks ago!” and “it already needs a trim.” And blahblahblah. The more I brushed it off (no pun intended), the more she just looked at me. *you know who you are and I am so sorry I blabbered on like such an idiot! Thank you, C, for the comment about my hair!*

So here’s the thing. Why can’t we (I?) just accept a complement and say, “thank you!” Am I the only woman who does this? I do it all. the. time. Is it embarrassment? It just seems flat out rude to me not to say thank you and move on. Weigh on in here, ladies.

Saturday, My Man and I attended a wedding. As a rule, I am not a huge fan of weddings since Andy died. They remind me now of what will never be for him and for the rest of our family. Especially since he was shopping for rings with Megs a couple days before he died. Wedding. Saturday. My Man was in the sound booth for the wedding and I sat with a couple of friends. Now, I know my bff’s pretty well and as soon as the music started and we stood up I looked over at one to make sure she was already crying. She was. Made my heart so happy to see the tears streaming down her face already. It is one of the things I absolutely love about her. As we settled into the wedding, for the first time in two plus years, I was able to relax a little and just be happy for the bride and groom. Our new Pastor did an awesome job. And I really listened to everything he said and (does anyone else do this?) with each charge he made to them and they to each other, I thought about my own marriage and how I was doing in each area. Not how Russell was doing, but how I was doing. It was quite the eye-opener. I realized I should be doing a lot better. I looked up to the sound booth a few times and caught his eye a time or two. We haven’t discussed it. But I am thinking he was probably thinking the same thing. You know…how I could be doing better. But really, it did speak to my heart.

Anyone else finding it difficult to get back in the swing of things after the Holidays? All of the (trillions) of things I want to get started on? Meh. Sitting here in front of the fireplace typing this up and looking around at my Christmas-bare living room and just don’t know what to do first. Have y’all found it easy to jump back in and get going on things? Or are you sitting on your couch wondering where in the world to begin (like me)?

Stay safe and warm…the Arctic Vortex is apparently upon us.