I blame it on the snowstorm. There’s nothing like sixteen inches of thick white snow falling in the space of twenty-four hours to make everyone and everything slow down.

There’s suddenly an insulating factor involved in every action. Walking, driving, shoveling, there’s this compressed “hmph” that absorbs and replaces the normal sounds. And, of course, the scenery is just prettier.

Maybe that’s why I started to intentionally listen to Christmas music on the radio and start singing it as I work around the house. Normally, I have to be drug into the holiday season kicking and screaming (sometimes literally). But I put up the tree last night. I dug out a few ornaments. I began working in my head where everything is going to be laid out when the family comes over for Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong. My calendar is full, very full. Just looking at it can be overwhelming. I still have three jobs. There’s still painting to do and stuff to clean up and sort and put away. I have no idea what I’m cooking for people to eat. It was decided we were going to do the $5 elephant gifts this year, and I haven’t done any shopping, period.

Oh yeah, and then there’s that whole book thing…you know, the reason this blog even exists. I have a reading in Webster on Saturday. I’m also trying to get a Facebook fan page up and running with interesting content to drive people to it. I’m compiling lists of mystery book clubs in and out of the area to contact. All the while, book 4 travels in and out of my consciousness with possible plot twists and emotional conundrums for the characters to overcome.

Yet, here I sit, not nearly as frazzled as usual. I’m somehow content to work through my exhaustive schedule one task at a time. I’m feeling a capacity to forgive myself for not having everything perfectly planned and timed.

Maybe that’s my present this year, not to make mountains out of molehills. Even if this feeling only lasts for the day, I’ll take it. I’ll actually notice the scenery out my truck window as I drive between errands. I’ll appreciate the way it looks like Bedford Falls puked all over everything.

Merry Christmas.

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