I’m not going to sugar coat it, I love giving…and receiving… gifts. In this tough economy we all could use more love and gifts but I have to become more creative with my ideas.

In the past month I have received two awards from friends in my social networking world which have brightened up my day. The first, The Circle of Friends Award came from Tara. With this award I need to list five things about myself.

I have been so wrapped up in my children that I have had not one second over the holidays to think about my quirky attributes and what could I tell you that you don’t already know? So, instead I will share with you my New Years Resolutions that are far more revealing:

1. Search for more music. To calm the chaos, I will fix the stereo in our house and build my library, for Brevitt and I are nothing without music.

2. Practice more yoga and dance more. I used to think that I was a laid back person, people always asked me if I was from California. It seems that I have changed into a worrier.

3. Be more organized and focused on the children. No more anger and frustration only humor and patience.

4. Get established as a local travel writer and finish my book.

5. Live life through love and be more tolerant of my mother of whom I adore.

My other award, The Lovely Blog Award, came from my new friend Naomi who is a devoted member of my Aspiring Writers Club on MBC. This is the second time that I have received this award which is making me feel quite lovely at the moment despite my battle with the evil pull of the blue moon  and the freezing days spent with children who refuse to go outside.

In honor of my desire to focus more on the boys, I will not produce a new list but invite you to visit my post written back in October that lists my favorite blogs.

I’ll also leave you with an incredible project called A River Blue. Joseph Arthur and Chandler Griffin became aware of children’s choirs that were being established at IDP (internally -displaced persons) camps in northern Ugunda and set up awareness, fundraising and outreach activities in the US for this organization.

The song that is played on the highlighted link above was sent to the camps for the children to practice and whenever I hear it I get the chills.

Happy Holidays!!!

I stared down the exceptionally long Christmas aisle in the market wondering where the hell the Jewish section was amongst the yard art, plastic santa’s, candy canes and reindeer.

“Excuse me,” I asked one of the clerks. “Where is your Jewish section?” “Huh?” she asked blankly staring into thin air. “Your Jewish section,” I signed, raising my voice while performing a little Yiddish dance.

A friend of mine who was in the next aisle heard my voice and peaked over to see what was going on, why I always have witnesses at times like these I do not know. “I hate to give Jews a bad rap by making a scene in a place that seems in denial that Jews actually exist, ” I said “but this is ridiculous.”

The Jew section turned out to be a sorry two foot square area in an obscure section of the store offering strange items like salted soft fishlike crackers but no Gelt,  candles or anything else that had to do with Chanukah. I couldn’t imagine that they weren’t getting hell from all the other Jews in the Valley because one thing was for certain, none of my fellow Jewish friends would put up with this.

As I put the groceries on the belt the check out girl admired and commented on my grocery selection. I met her  years back when her mother volunteered for an organization that I was the Volunteer Coordinator for.  I have never learned which disease she has but she moves slower than most and her face is physically marred. I have seen her at different stages of her life, as a child and than pregnant with her own child. Who the father is, I do not know.

She told me that her daughter would not be with her over Christmas for the first time in eleven years because she was in an all girl’s boarding school in Oregon and I asked her if she was okay with that. She said she was.

As she checked out my items she studied each one, “Ohhh”, she exclaimed, “I’ve never seen this natural kind of ice cream before,” and “ooohhh, I just love Swiss chocolate but ohhhh look at the price.”

The fact is, I buy Swiss chocolate for Wade and the children because it is the only chocolate bar in the Market that doesn’t have high fructose corn syrup in it, but I didn’t have the energy to explain the psychology behind my grocery selections.

I was growing more irritated by the second but I smiled because that is my new thing, to smile when I feel like shredding something or someone to pieces, and not just present a fake smile, as there is nothing worse than a fake smile, but to really smile so that I actually can feel the warmth of the smile radiate within me and change my attitude.

I ran my debit card through and, as usual, the magnetic strip was not working. “It never works. You have to punch it in yourself,” I said apologetically.  Not accepting this she came around to try it herself with her own special touch. She slid it slowly a few times, going slower with each try and then wrapped it in plastic to slide it a few times more.

She shook her head and said, “Your card doesn’t work.” “No! Get out, really?” She got on the phone all in a huff to call for help. So now we both were irritated and I realized that  I had started it by giving her back half of the groceries from my cart when I  saw that I had overdone the shopping again with grandiose ideas for holiday meals.

“I can give you a check,” I pleaded. “No, no, its ok,” she sighed. By the time she decided that she could punch in the numbers without the help of her superiors, my smile was bringing tears to my eyes. When  I read, “NOT APPROVED,” I forced back the real tears from flowing. At times like these I can’t help but step outside myself  and feel as though I am watching my own Woody Allen film.

“Your card isn’t working,” she said again holding the card out for me to take it back but when I tried to grab it she wouldn’t let it go. Finally, after a staring match and a small tug of war, I asked her in a sugar coated bitter tone, “Are you going to give me the card back or what?” She broke out laughing at her inability to let go, and so did I. It was a real hysterical, nervous breakdown sort of laughter but nevertheless it felt good and when I glanced back at the people who were patiently waiting in line behind me I saw that they too were laughing.

When I left, still winding down with my uncontrollable giggles, I should have felt sad for her but I  didn’t. I felt  happy, and thankful, that I wasn’t too absorbed in myself to appreciate this woman and her struggles, happy that I had been given the gift of laughter and happy that I didn’t make a scene, for once in my life.