Oh but I?m grinch-y.

Despite all the beauty surrounding me, despite all the wonder and joy around me, despite the love I receive in such full measure?I am grinchy. And what makes it worse is that I know I have absolutely no right to feel grinchy. No right at all. Which makes me feel worse.

You know what? Just writing that down made me feel better. Sometimes these things ricochet around in my head and when I put them down in black and white I see how utterly and completely bonkers I am. Writing has always helped me in this way.

It?s like there?s this demon in my head stirring up one bad thought, one bad feeling after another but if I trap them on the page they melt like the Wicked Witch of the West under a bucket of water. (Who, it turns out, may not have been so wicked?but that?s for another day).

So, now that I?m here I will tell you about all the marvelous photographs I don?t have for you.

? The photograph of me sitting here in the living room surrounded by three dogs amid a sea of writing binders and portfolios in varying stages of being graded while a fab mix cd (*see below) plays and I hear T?s voice coming up from his office where he is practicing with his guitar?he?s in a band (I know! Don?t ask!) He?s getting ready for their rehearsal tomorrow night. I?m wearing black ballet leggings (covered in dog hair) a white t-shirt and a blue hoodie. Outside it is pitch black and bitter cold. In here, I am barefoot due to the magical powers of our beloved ESSE.

? The photograph of me walking the dogs this morning out through the back woods, through the deep drifts of snow covered in a thin crust of crushed diamonds that sparkled as far as the eye could see in the bright sunshine. The air was crisp and sweet. Spiky green fir branches poked out from under their suits of snow?a veritable forest of Charlie Brown Christmas trees. And the dogs-- diving, bodysurfing, wading through the expanse like we would the ocean.

? The photograph last night as I unpacked the most delightful package from Jeanine that held bright blue elf boots, handmade baked dog biscuits, and FOUR mix cds*! (My god, is there anyone in the world who NEEDS mix cds more than me? I don?t think there could be?me = musically challenged)! All wrapped in the most artful, inspiring way. You WILL get a picture of this as you must share in the joy---

? Daisy nestling into Ollie for some love, tipping her head so that it curves across the back of his neck and falling asleep like that.

So what?s my problem? How can I be grinchy in the face of such blessings?

Part of it is that 6 students failed my class. Part of it is that 4 of those 6 plagiarized. This really bothers me. And, you know what? I really don?t like December.

Maybe if I lived in another part of the world?Brazil, perhaps, or Australia. Maybe then December would feel more like Spring?but wait, I hate Spring, too.

I have a friend who gives me a lot of grief for being ?Pollyanna,? as I can have a surfeit of positive energy at times. And, I know that this is the season of light. Of beauty of magic, and yet, it never feels that way to me.

When I need to lift my spirits (like these days) I don?t put on Christmas music (god forbid, but can I tell you I have a sister who starts playing NON-STOP her collection?her collection?of Christmas music in November--- I?m talking about someone related to me by blood-- genetics are so weird).

No?if I need to shift my emotions, I think of this scene I witnessed last September.

I was flying back from visiting my niece in Ohio (so granted, I was already a bit weepy) and waiting at my gate when this young woman rushes up to the gate next to mine. Her plane had already had its last call and the door had closed. The woman drops her suitcases and starts shrieking, ?no! no! no!? Her panic sets my heart racing. She is shouting and crying out in a thick accent?some kind of Eastern European language, not sure which Russian, maybe? She is freaking out. The desperation of her voice combined with her broken English and her cries of ?help me, somebody must help me.? Well, just as I went to go over to see if there was anything I could do (which I knew there wasn?t, I knew she was screwed)?four different people were at her side. Four. Different. People. All trying to help. All perfect strangers (the airline help was just standing by watching coldly?and I can understand that for them, this is a daily event), each reaching out to this woman. And, as I write this it probably doesn?t seem like much. But what I knew sitting there as I watched everyone around me follow the scene from their seats is that we ALL would have helped her. And to this day, when I think about that, my eyes well up and I get all mushy.

The only Christmas movie I love?it gets me mushy, too?is Frank Capra?s It?s A Wonderful Life. I know it?s sentimental schlock?but guess what, it gets me every time. Not that I like Mary?in fact, I hate Mary. I have always hated Mary. I hate that she trapped Jimmy Stewart (yes, I see that I know the actress by her character?s name and the actor by his real name?sue me). I hate that he had to live out his whole life in that stupid little town. I hate that he never got to travel. I hate his stupid kids and the stupid song his daughter plonks out on the piano?I hate that drafty, old house.

I hate it all.

But the terror that is financial stress--- the way it throws your whole life, your every decision into sharp, terrible relief--- I love how Capra captures that. And? The last scene where all the people who love Jimmy come together and their collective wealth washes away his worry--- it just cuts me off at the knees. Every. Damn. Time.

Speaking of movies?I have just seen two that I can?t wait to write up opines for because they are so utterly deserving of a great, wide audience. They are so beautiful.

I know this post is the lamest of the lame?but I had to try and break through this crazy headspace I am in if I am ever going to get back in the groove. And I want to be back in groove. I don?t want to be grinchy.

But, maybe I could give it to my friend as a Christmas present? Yes! Here you go, Daffodilly-- Pollyanna Goes Tranny as the Grinch.

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