May Your Days Be Merry and Bright

Rain has fallen from skies of steely slate for over twenty-four hours, an atmosphere dank and dreary. This year has been nearly impossible for me to grab the Christmas spirit, wrap my body around the comfort of nostalgic tradition; unrelenting rains do not help this propensity to bury myself in work and worries. Nonetheless, celebrate the season, or at least celebrate a season, any season, any day, just this beautiful piece of life, I must. I have been indulging in my favorite Ronnybrook egg nog from upstate New York, fortified with a healthy douse of bourbon; most of my shopping is complete, and I am pleased with the bounty. Some argue against the notion of purchasing presents solely for a commercially designated time of year, as though out of habit, rather than from a true and genuine desire to give. While I can appreciate that, and concur, still, a time to reflect, to embrace those important, near and dear, lavish them with a few tokens, cannot be all bad, even if a bit contrived and hyped.