Coffee CubBuster

There was a large fence separating our backyard from the next door neighbor's, and they weren't very friendly when it came to our climbing over it every five minutes in order to retrieve our kickball. My parents had to instill a "no climbing the fence rule" when I was about five years-old to maintain amicable relations. Thus, I was surprised when my sister encouraged me to climb over that same wooden barrier a few days later to get our bouncing ball back. "What do I say if mom asks me if I got it?" my undefiled voice questioned. "She won't ask you, and if she does, just lie." My big sis had already mastered this cunning craft that completely evaded me. Presumably, my mama scolded and disciplined my behind that evening after my first attempts at the art-form, (some how mothers always find out) and I don't think I've ever readily lied since that day.  I'm not sure if it's a firstborn trait or not, but my eldest child seems to be

Haul out the holly Put up the tree before my spirit falls again Fill up the stocking I may be rushing things but deck the halls again now For we need a little Christmas right this very minute Candles in the window, carols at the spinet Yes we need a little Christmas right this very minute Hasn't snowed a single flurry, but Santa dear we're in a hurry (excerpt from "We Need a Little Christmas" by Johnny Mathis) I never noticed until today that some of my favorite Christmas tunes propagandize my natural instincts to accelerate. Even though I have recently promoted the essentiality of being still and silent this time of year, I find myself always "hurrying" my kiddos to the next thing or feverishly anticipating what could occur next. It's not until our "quiet time," "nap time," or "bed time," that I breathe slower and more peacefully. Maybe that's why much of Europe shuts down mid-day in order to savor, rest and reset.