December 19

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Showing Dad *exactly* what she wants for Christmas. Which is only six days away. And I’m pretty sure we’re celebrating it a day early. But whatevs.

Sometimes I marvel at the way God gifts us differently. Looking at a million pictures of longed-for presents would not be my cup of tea, and yet my husband stands there patiently, listening to his daughter’s interests and kindly scrolls backwards and forwards at her whim. When I want to speed up, he is fine with slowing down. Thank the Lord for this man! And this girl. I’m blessed with these two!

December 18

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Leftovers from baking cookies.

December 17

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When you’re doing the December Photo Project and you’ve been home all day, you just might haul a camera out in 6 degree weather and photograph a [clearly starving] cat eating his food. He’ll stop and look at you, perturbed that you’d be so bold as to document him slurping down his kibbles. And then you won’t use the shot of his face because it isn’t flattering. Nor will you use the images of your husband diligently salting the driveway while holding today’s mail with his teeth because the shot turned out too blurry. (You didn’t grab the good camera, knowing you’d be skating on ice and might fall on your way to shoot cats eating food.) Such is the life in the day of a DPP participant. December 17 in a frozen tundra equals dragging a camera to the home where you’re cat-sitting.

December 16

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As I was brewing coffee this afternoon all I could think was, It’s five o’clock somewhere. And then I laughed because I’m ridiculous and it was 5 o’clock here in Lincoln and I was making a fresh pot of coffee. Oh these days of short sunshine and lots on my to-do list require coffee to make it to bedtime. Well, coffee or a nap. So today it was coffee right before my self-designated caffeine cut-off. And—right on cue—I’m now fading at 10:00pm.

Goodnight, friends. Happy Friday to you all!

December 15

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Funny how a bowl of pears can delight me so much. There’s something about the glass, the fruit, the light that captures my attention over and over.

The Hair Adventure

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Sometimes gray hair sparkles. It shines. The light hits those silvers and just gleams off the top of a head, but the trick is when your friends are getting older and you’re not sure if they’re going gray and you just feel kinda awkward about saying anything out loud so you don’t. (Which is really the perfect thing because if you can’t say something nice we all know it’s best to say nothing at all.)

I’m here to say that I’m done coloring my hair. Yes indeed, that is gray hair you’ll be seeing on my crown.

I reserve the right to color my hair again someday. I may hate the silvers and decide to go deep brunette again. I may love the silvers and accentuate the whole noggin with purple stripes. Who knows? The world is my oyster! But for today, I’m done coloring my hair.

I’ve been covering up gray hair for around seven years now. In my early 30’s gray equaled shame in my mind. I’m not even sure why I bought into the message that gray was shameful, but I did. Each offending hair was first plucked out and then later covered with a mess of hair dye. I love my hairstylist—she’s a longtime friend who always makes me feel like a million bucks in her chair. She’s done a terrific job of coloring my hair all these years! But I am just over it. I don’t want to spend the big bucks on it anymore. I find it’s hard to match my dark color as time goes on. I’d like to skip the chemicals on my scalp. But most importantly, I’m not ashamed of the gray any longer.

Why did I fear the change in hair color years ago? Everyone says it’s because gray makes you look old. But NEWSFLASH, I wasn’t old then. I’m not old now. And WHAT’S WRONG WITH OLD? For real people, what is wrong with age? We have got serious problems in our society. We’ve got 50 year olds trying to look like they’re 25. For what and why???

I love being a woman. I really like lipstick and have no intention of giving it up in order to go au naturel on my lips. While I’m fine with the natural color God gave my lips, I do like to jazz it up a bit. Hair is no different. Silver stripes are a choice I’m making and I’m cool with that. I’ve read up quite a bit on going gray young and it’s fascinating to me how many women are insulted for making this choice. Hear me now: you don’t have a say in my hair coloring choices, friends. Do what you want with your own head. Too many women are treated rudely for this choice in particular and I think that kind of commentary needs to end. One gal was called a witch the other day! (Be careful who you call witch, right? You may just end up with a spell cast on you; I’m thinking some sort of animal tail or your mouth closed a la Neo in The Matrix.)

Men tend to be called sexy when they go gray—think George Clooney—and women are called witches. Let’s change the dialogue here, people. In so many ways, let’s be kind to one another. You can start with me.

PS: One last weird thing I’ve noticed when I’ve mentioned I’m letting my silver hair grow… Almost every woman then talks about her own choices, often with defensiveness. Listen to me when I say that I’m really not judging you or staring at your head—you do you and I’ll support you in it.

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December 14

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First opportunity for Christmas treats and I pick caramel popcorn. Yum.

December 13

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December 12

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Matthew Henry’s Commentary on the Whole Bible is what you grab for reading material when you’re leaving your parents’ house and your child wants to go swing at Pioneers Park. The swing, you know, is a magical place for singing and exploring miles of imaginary worlds. It takes some time to swing. As it turns out, it also takes some time to read Matthew Henry’s Commentary on THE WHOLE BIBLE.

December 11

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