The girls and I watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas this morning, during their convalescence from a number of ailments, nothing too serious as to bother mentioning, but serious enough not to send them to school today. Hence, TV in the a.m. which is a big NO-NO in this house. Only during illness are such blatant sloth-like activities allowed early in the day. But it was THE GRINCH, which at least gave it an edge. So much of an edge, in fact, that I was crying like a baby at intermittent moments through the entire short movie. I love the Grinch. I believe that show, seen in my childhood, gave me some perspective on my own family’s problems with the holiday, and, really, the culture at large’s issues, too. It is so pure, and beautiful. And a celebration of some sort is definitely warranted at the end of the year, no matter what your belief system or religion or what-have-you. It is just the right thing to do. Acknowledge the passing of a year. What we have defined as a year. Appropriate, to celebrate the end of shortened daylight, welcoming back the sun after it has wound down into winter.
Have yourself a merry little Winter Solstice, friends. Here comes the sun!
20 Fingers, 20 Toes 
Have yourselves a Merry little Solstice, too. Can’t agree more about the passing of the year. A year. Interminable, vast, drop in our bucket. But one-third of them and beyond numbers huge for their hearts and minds.