I didn't make it to church on Sunday, and yes, I felt guilty. But Emma was at a youth group retreat, and Steve was down with a pretty bad cold, and needed meds, so I opted to drop Ben off at his Sunday school class and head to Target to buy meds for my hubby. We often joke when we drive by places like Target, that are packed to the gills on Sunday morning, "the pagans are out worshipping this morning." Mean, judgemental, but it always gets a giggle. And sure enough, Target was packed at 9:00 this Sunday morning, so I hurried and got my stuff and tried to find the shortest line. I got behind a couple that had a cart stuffed with cases of soda, Doritos, etc. Breakfast, I guessed. The woman was loudly talking to the clerk, obviously recognizing her from her past, and was gleefully telling her all the wonderful things that had happened to her in the past few years, houses, husbands, and sure enough, she pulled up her sweatshirt to show the clerk (and all the rest of us lucky enough to be there) her "baby belly." The clerk stood looking a little stunned while the woman rattled on and on and her husband, obviously embarrassed, grabbed the bags in an effort to escape. Then the inevitable question: "And what's new with you? How's Dan?"  In the quietest voice she could muster, the clerk explained that things were done with Dan, and she was back in town living with her mom. The pregnant one actually squealed, "you're living with your MOM??" Ugh. The husband finally grabbed control of the situation, said their goodbyes for both of them, and escorted his wife over to the food court for, I saw later, the biggest cup of Mountain Dew I've ever seen (no kidding).

So there I was, alone with the clerk. "Good morning, ma'am" she said. Double ugh. I had my best "not ma'am" outfit on, ratty jeans, sneakers and my PITT hoodie. I was in no way looking like a ma'am, but I was feeling sorry for her so I smiled and said hi. I slid my card in the little card thingie, looked up, and the dear woman was wiping tears off her face. I was stunned, but even more stunned when she smirked at me and stated, "My life sucks." Wow. I had not even combed my hair yet that morning, I was really not prepared for this. But for some reason I got angry that someone could reduce someone else to tears that easily that early in the morning, and I opened my mouth and said, "You know, life is not a pissing contest. You're not in competition with that woman." It worked, she smiled and let out a laugh. "I live with my mom." "You've got your mom, and a place to live. You look healthy, you've got a job, and opportunity to turn things around. You look like you are doing okay to me." "Thanks," she said, a little lighter sounding. But, of course, I was not done. "You know, we're here to store up treasures in heaven, not beat everybody else at the loot game. Loving your neighbor is more important than getting the Volvo." Now she was looking at ME, stunned. I realized I was standing there telling a clerk at TARGET on a Sunday morning that material possessions were irrelevant. It was time for me to leave.

By the way, the baby mama was driving away with her hubby in a shiny black Suburban when I walked out, yapping away at him. Sigh.

I haven't taken down my Christmas tree yet.

In years past, that would not have been possible. By this date it would have been a pathetic corpse of a tree, no needles, sagging branches, a fire hazard at best. But a few years ago I got me a brand new shiny,  8 ft. fake Christmas tree, with branches that take days, not hours, to assemble and hold more lights and ornaments that any family has a right to ever own. BTW, don't ever buy a Christmas tree in a warehouse store. When we first laid eyes on it in the massive Loew's down the street, it was cute and full, and not fake looking. When we got it home, it still wasn't fake looking, but it takes up (over) half of our living room, and the poor angel on top in perpetually bent over in order to fit. I thought I wanted to get rid of it this year when we first put it up, it just was TOO MUCH, but now it threatens to become a permanent fixture in our home. Why? Because it is so pretty, and twinkly, and cheerful, and it makes me happy when I sit in the same room with it, which has been all the time lately.

When you live in Pittsburgh, the chances of seeing the sun for more than a few hours a month during the winter are slim, and the cloud covered sky makes everything else seem brown or grey and just pretty miserable. And this year we have for some reason escaped the massive storms of the midwest and east, so we haven't even had a good snow to cover the mud and rotting leaves left all over the landscape this year. Ugh. So when I come home from work each night I run upstairs and put my jammie pants on and my fluffy bathrobe, grab the knitting, and sit with the twinkling tree all night, and I just feel better. It's more fun (and cheaper) than a sun lamp. It might never come down.