Amy's Place

Contemporary Fiction

Christmas

I wanted to do a little something different for my holiday post.

No pics of the perfectly decorated cookie or shots of the sparing moments when my kids aren’t fighting (I hear screaming in the background right now.) No family photos where everyone is smiling and all our clothes match (heck, I’m doing good if my boys even have on clothes–spend any time with me on Facebook and you know that one’s true.) No impressions of a peaceful paradise and a partridge in a pair tree –although we do have a pair tree in the front yard, no pairs though–hey, life’s not perfect.

No, this Christmas I give you:

Christmas Confessions: My gift of truth this holiday season. 

I don’t know the correct way to type: Yep, that’s right. I entered college (ages ago) only able to hunt and peck. I decided I would be an English major. Who couldn’t type. Yep. Well, several years and many, many, many, papers later… I can now type without looking at the keys, but it’s my own made-up format of which fingers hit which keys, and it’s not always the same ones each time

I’m a bad speller… like atrocious (I had to look up how to spell that.) I long for the days of Shakespeare when apparently you could just spell things however you wanted to. Spelling is hard, folks. The struggle is real. I’d say more on the topic, but I’m trying to avoid misspelling anything. (That you inventor of Spell Check.)

I drink WAY too much coffee.   It’s what I eat for breakfast. My caffeine tolerance is so high, I can fall asleep while drinking it. This is not something I’m proud of, it’s just the truth.

I’m terrible at math: I count on my fingers when I add. I furrow my brow and make strange faces that look like I’m trying to figure our something very complicated when I’m mostly I’m just trying to figure out if the avocados are on sale for a good enough price to overlook that they are too ripe. (Then I talk to myself for a moment about it and decide that no price is that good.)

I talk to myself: Enough said.

And the best gift I can give you: laughter.

I am NOT photogenic: Not at all. My daughter recently took about 200 pictures of me for an author photo for The Lemonade Year. I wasn’t making a goofy face in about 5 of them. (Sorry, sweetie.)

Laugh and enjoy!

 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

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