A storm like this again–
I’ll really miss my tree.
If I had more time I’d finish the poem. Let’s just say that this weekend I felt like the Grinch arrived on his sled and took all our Christmas stuff. I was not out in the city square holding hands with my fellow man singing da-who do-ray or whatever it is they sing. I was screaming, "This stinks!" So while Mr. Grinch could use a bigger heart, maybe mine is still set on the wrong things. Because Christmas isn’t over, there’s still hope for us both.