the gingerbread men are taking over

I'm not a fan of Christmas....I'm not a christian....and have too many unpleasant childhood memories of miserable Christmases to harbour any affection so it has for many years been a case of 'Bah humbug' with regard to the season of good will.

Things that bug me:

The commercialisation of christmas...why does it start in September.

The hijacking of pagan traditions.

Tinsel

Parents over spending.

Childrens christmas lists that encourage greed.

Christmas pudding...why?...uck!

Over indulgence.

Being socially 'forced' into conforming to the 'christmas spirit'

Goodwill being confined to the festive season.

Christmas cards.

So you see it's not surprizing that those around me are slightly perplexed by the appearence of the gingerbread men. The spicy biscuit type all wrapped up in cellophane ready to hang on the tree ( if I have one...havent decided yet) little felt ones with blanket stitch around the edge 24 of them all hand made by me, one for each day for my granddaughter to hang on a garland festooned with hearts instead of an advent calender and little tin ones to stand on the window ledge.

I've taken a different view this year, I'm focusing on the positives, the good things that the season brings, the traditions of winter rather than those of a religion of which I am not a part but forced to participate in for fear of being labelled a scrooge , so I am ready to bring in the holly light the candles, cook and bake for family and friends...so the gingerbread man has become the symbol for christmas in our house this year and maybe for years to come.

onward

I think that the procrastrination is finally coming to an end, got the work in progress out and feel ready to start again...needs a major overhaul but I'm hopeful of progress.

Funneling

Trying to write...but...practicalities getting in the way. How can we funnel creativity, illiminate the mundane and necessary thoughts that clutter our mind, that intrude, become a white noise almost...churning away in the background tempting us down alleyways of thoughtthat lead nowhere.

Regrets

The past leaves a stain,
sometimes inedible,
on our present.
Tears push attempting to fall,
fail to penetrate the shield.
Bad memories fight with good
let the good ones win...please.

Lies

Inside my head I'm twenty five,

size ten and definately four inches taller,

The mirror lies.

The grey doesnt show

nor do the lines

And still the mirror lies.

I look and expect to see

the me I was,

But my mother looks back at me.

Paris...

Its not true what they say

about the French,

Madame was very helpful.

The sun dappled,

our days stretched into

balmy evenings and coffees

into wine.

Yawwwwwn

Oh hell!! thought I'd left sleepless nights behind, alas not...a leathal combination of heat, headache, thoughts and a sleepless two year old has left me so very grumpy today and I have so much to do. Last night it didnt get completely dark at all, there was a glow that remained all night reminding me of the coming morning.