Recipe for Holiday Peace.

Recipe for Holiday Peace

Ingredients:

  • 1 large bunch of cold, dry, dark weather.
  • 1 large bunch of spring-like weather.
  • 1 small bunch of Jingle Bells.
  • A touch of anticipation.

Pour both kinds of weather into a large bowl. Add jingle bells and anticipation and mix well. The result will be confusing, but proceed with confidence.

Mix in:

  • 10 cups of busy. Any variety will do.
  • A few leaves of tradition.
  • 1 dusting each of longing for times past and wishing for a brighter, happier now.
  • A dash of Hope, a heaping tablespoon of Faith, and several large spoonfuls of Love.

Stir well and let flavors mingle.

Add all at once:

  • Five drops of scent of pine.
  • A few drops of loneliness… due to those who will not be at your table this year for one reason or another.
  • 1 heaping cup each of red, green, blue, silver and gold.
  • 2 overflowing cups of effervescence.
  • 3 cups of glitteriest-glitter. Throw it everywhere, and whatever makes it into the bowl, good for you.
  • 1 collection of interesting relatives and friends around a large table — eating, drinking and discussing the state of the world (or not).
  • Three small pinches of obligation. What you’re expected to do, should do, always do, thought you should do, agreed to do, must do, planned to do, don’t want to do, were asked to do.
  • A toss of fantasy, perhaps the one about escaping to a quiet villa with a handsome, kind chef/real estate magnate/comedian/wise man for three months on short notice.

Mix well over a nearby hearth fire. Then stop everything. Let the mixture rest while you pour a glass of sparkly. Put your feet up. By the fire. Go ahead, drink your sparkly. Feel warm and appreciative. Fantasize about the chef/quiet villa idea.

When you’re good and ready, add:

  • Prayers. Your kind. For what’s important to you.
  • Heavenly sleep. As often as possible, yield to the desire to crawl under the covers.
  • These wise words from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: “…the best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.”
  • Singing. Any kind. Any time. Any place. If you get too worried, if you get lost, if you get broken, The Wood Brothers can help you.

And last but not least. With gusto and reverence add:

  • A generous splash of Mother Nature while gushing about her beauty.
  • Five scoops of your strength.
  • Seven scoops of your flexibility.
  • Ten scoops of your wisdom.
  • Your boundless love.

Stir well, add any available candles and poinsettias — and don’t forget the mistletoe! Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

May All Good Angels be with you this Holiday season!

P.S.  My book of poetry, “100 Words: Small Servings of Whimsy and Wisdom to Calm the Mind and Nourish The Heart” will be ready soon (in time for Holiday gift-giving) and I’ll let you know the moment it’s available.

Over the Holidays, I’ll be editing my second book about Relationships to be published early next year.

My blog will be back in January! In the meantime, Ho, Ho, Ho!

 

 

 

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A Poem From My Upcoming Book

Good Morning!

Today I’m sharing a poem from my upcoming Poetry Book. As soon as everything is confirmed by Balboa Press, I’ll let you know the title of the book and the publication date. The book will be available in softcover and Kindle, mostly through Amazon and Barnes and Noble. (I’ll have copies, too, of course.) Bookstores will buy it through Ingram.

Needless to say, I’m pretty excited! Here is one of the three poems that will be shared on the “Look Inside” feature on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

WHAT’S COOKIN’ IN YOUR RELATIONSHIP KITCHEN?

My daughter strolled to the kitchen
to get a snack and returned crestfallen.
“There’s nothing to eat,” she reported.
“There are only ingredients.”

A love relationship is a kitchen
full of sweet, savory, salty and spicy.
I have ingredients (beliefs, personality, habits).
You have ingredients, too.

But how will they blend?
Are we good cooks?
With what you’ve got and what I’ve got,
will we create a wonderful sauté?

Will our relationship be sweet?
Or will the cake fall?
Today, I’ve got anchovies and you —
rocky road ice cream. This will be interesting.

It’s OK. There’s always another meal coming.

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100 Words: Pearls In The Morning.

Words come in the morning, rising and ready before the sun. Yawning, I cooperate, streaming my way to the first glass of water, the coffee pot, the writing place.

Because.

Already I can hear the pitcher of pearls spilling long strands onto my desk.

Can I catch them?

If not, strands roll away, crash onto the dark floor. Single pearls, once connected, bounce everywhere.

Quick! Five shades of cream! Beautiful! I scoop them up, lay them on, notice how they feel resting on my heart. 

Glancing down, I notice the word count. Not more, not less. Exactly one hundred.

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100 Words: Yes. Change Is Gonna Come.

I’ve got the sweetest pair of summer sandals, strappy and black, a classy landing for any set of toes or heels headed for a crossroad, contemplating change — such perfect support for standing still or moving forward, wandering or making a beeline, walking confidently into a new life. 

Shall we, for a moment, consider this amazing “little black sandal” flexibility?

The brilliance of these beauties is their dance of versatility.  A morning walk through bright lilies, say, followed by a deliciously dark silk evening.

You’re changing again? Oh, thank you, these little shoes say, with a deep welcome.

Such wise shoes. 

 

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100 Words: Tom Brady and Me

In an interview with New England Patriot quarterback Tom Brady, he declared himself spiritual, curious about life and why we’re alive. His body is his asset. He takes conscious care of it. Loves his Brazilian wife Gisele and three children. Loves football.

Did you know? He was a last pick — too tall and skinny, weak arm, couldn’t throw a tight spiral – but wanted to play. Eventually, he surpassed all expectations, lead the Patriots to eight Super Bowl appearances, five wins.

This gives me such hope. I’ve practiced writing since my young years — maybe I’m just now finding my tight spiral.

 

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Terri Crosby

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