Mom’s nativity scenes look a little hay-less. Maybe Bradford Pear leaves will work. We have plenty of those.
Actually, I was at that store that rhymes with Knobby Mobby today, and I ALMOST bought a bag called “Nativity Hay” for $2.99. I was going to PAY $2.99 for a bag of brown grass. Oh, Rhonda. You do know how to kill your paycheck. Thank you, conscience, for stopping me.
I am grateful for my conscience.
I’m also grateful that I can laugh at myself and don’t care as much anymore what others think of me. Don’t get me wrong, I still care way too much, but if I can live through what happened this morning and still face the crowd walking by the glass front of my office, I have come a LONG way:
I prepared myself this morning at home, and I stuck a couple of personal products in my pocket for just in case. (Yes, I know men read this. I am assuming the men who read this are not completely clueless and know what “personal products” mean when a woman refers to them.)
As I walked into the building at 7:40 am, there were two men behind me a few feet back. I stopped at my office door to unlock, since I was the early bird getting the worm. Just as I was unlocking the door with my lunch bag and purse in tow and arms loaded, the men walked in the building at the same time my personal products fell out of my pocket and onto the floor at their feet.
It was a lovely moment.
But…my cheeks didn’t even turn red.
I am grateful that it takes a little more than tampons on the public floor to make me embarrassed anymore.
I am grateful for tacos. I think I could live on tacos.
I am grateful for my counselor’s advice to keep the purple in our relationship.
And I am grateful for snowball cookies that made my boss cry, because her Mom used to make them and she misses her Mama like I miss mine.
Which reminds me to be grateful for those nativity sets – I have very little from my Mom, but I do have those. Hayless and beautiful.
In conclusion, I paired nativity scenes with personal products for this post. Wow. Nothing like keeping it real.