Here’s the art…
I think that our cars can hear us talking. They’re not even parked in the garage. They are both parked outside in the driveway, proving their sense of hearing to be acute. I know they can hear us because Jo and I have been talking in whispered tones about what Christmas presents we want to buy, but our Volvos have hatched schemes to get us to spend that money on them. The more wicked of the two is in the shop right now, his grill grinning from headlight to headlight while he awaits a brand new alternator. Merry Christmas, sedan! Then our daughter’s Volvo wagon, the Bananamobile, threatened to faint and got a new battery out of us. Merry Christmas, wagon!
But that’s OK. There is too much to be thankful for to be worried about these little bumps in the road. The holidays are here again, and I feel inclined to remind myself, and anyone else that will listen, that we don’t have to let the holidays rule over us. The calendar isn’t going to tell me how to act, making me jump through its annual hoops. As long as I focus on the good things in life every day, the calendar can call that day whatever it wants.