It's no joke. I've been dragging myself through this season of cheer like a sack full of old tangerines. I just finished doing a totally ghetto wrapping job on my presents because I can't believe I have to do this....AGAIN. The stress of giving is enough to kill. Would Jesus feel guilty about spending $3.99 on a gift for a relative he saw once a year?

There was a time, somewhere between 7 and 10, when my love of Christmas, along with my gift wrapping skills, shone like the Virgin Mary herself. [This is around the same time I developed the compulsive habit of making the sign of the cross during times of great duress (this behavior so horrified my mother that she would pinch me till I cried...thus, solidifying the association between God and pain...thanks Mom!)]. This behavior eventually morphed into compulsive shopping and boy craziness and other forms of destruction, but at that time who knew? I was like an virtual angel blessing the world with my weird fixation on religion and during the season of giving my heart was like an electrical socket that lit up the Christmas tree under which I'd stand and marvel at the beauty a light made when shining on a bulb...Those were the days when Christmas mean something...(sigh).

Just for today, I'm making it through the holidays.