Hey There, It's Christa!

So Long, Farewell, 2011...

In the beginning, I wasn't so sure that 2011 and I were ever going to get along...

While it naturally takes a couple of days to get up to speed with writing the new year on your checks (and yes, I still write checks—sooo old school, I know), I was still using 2010 in June, which might explain why this year felt like it whizzed by so quickly.

But whatever the reason 2011 felt so incredibly short, despite the blistering hot, record-setting summer that I was sure was never going to end, a quick glance through my dayplanner (a New Year's Eve ritual of mine) revealed that it was truly an eventful year—and not just on the work front (although I'm very thankful for how crazy that was, too, given the rather challenging climate for freelance writers these days).

So as we say "so long, farewell" to 2011 (and here's hoping I get onboard with 2012 pronto), I'm so incredibly grateful for so many amazing family memories this past year, for good health and great friends, for such gorgeous glimpses of brand new places (like in the picture on the left) with my illustrious hubby by my side. And most of all, I thankful for new mercies every morning and breath in my lungs. It's truly a wonderful life—and I wish the same to all of you in 2012.

Love, Christa

P.S. Here's hoping that 2012 doesn't end up shaking out like its horrible John Cusack movie namesake. Yikes.

The Art of Writing the Annual Christmas Letter...

Ok, so it's a little late for this year (well, unless you prefer your correspondence to arrive a little closer to New Year's Day), but this article with tips on writing the annual family Christmas letter seriously cracked me up.

Notice how many times "Don't brag" shows up? Yeah, I think that's a pretty great rule of thumb, along with "don't try to get a whole year into a page," "keep it light" and "don't use it as a catalog for a home-based business."

Fudge-Covered Ritz: Delightful or Disgusting?

If you tuned in yesterday, you discovered that my cutie patootie niece and my husband Will share a serious love of mini Reese's peanut butter cups in common.

Funny enough, in the same way that Will can easily down an entire bag of that chocolate/peanut butter goodness in record time, he's also been known to devour Ritz crackers in an equally enthusiastic fashion.

Now I'll be the first to admit, Ritz is buttery deliciousness in mere cracker form, but I'm guessing even if I was starving I'd never eat more than 10 at a time, even if hummus or some other yummy topper is involved. But Will? Well, he'll eat an entire roll and call it lunch.

So when my Mom saw that two of Will's favorite things—Ritz and chocolate—had conveniently merged for the holidays, she simply couldn't resist getting a box for his stocking. And given my love for all things sweet and salty (my favorite combo is plain M&Ms on movie theater popcorn), I couldn't resist sneaking a little taste either.

Now for those wondering whether fudge-covered Ritz are delightful or disgusting, well here's the verdict: If you like chocolate-covered graham crackers, you'll adore these! Strangely enough, I wished the salty element was a little more pronounced because it didn't taste all that Ritz-y to me. But they were still pretty delicious, and not surprisingly, our box has already made its way to the recycle bin without even the smallest of cracker crumbs inside.

A December to Remember

Oh, December, you truly never disappoint...well, except for that last Packer game maybe.

Like always, you've been jam-packed with activity, but you won't hear me complaining.

After all, there's been gingerbread lattes, fresh-baked cookies and the faint smell of fresh Christmas pine in the background while I've been running around (and writing, of course) like a madwoman.

There have been movies good and bad (but mostly good, definitely an exception to the rule in my world, trust me), holiday hymns sung in church, lovely cards nestled next to the boring ol' bills in the mailbox and the best part of all? Well, all the celebrating with family and dear friends...

I feel like I've had several Christmases already, whether it was hanging with my dear friend Heather and seeing Breaking Dawn at our mall of choice, reconnecting with my pal Andrea and her adorable son Jack or flying out to Colorado where the bulk of my family lives.

While it wasn't much of a white Christmas, which I'm totally okay with since I grew up in snowy Wisconsin, it was truly memorable all the same. Not only did I get to see my sister and her hubby graduate from college (cue teary eyes), but I got some seriously awesome hang time with my Mom, Casey, Lindsey, Shayne, and of course, Princess Adelyn (she's really into princesses these days). The only sad part really was that it all went by much too fast...

By the way, this is Miss Adelyn Grace after she discovered the wonder of mini Reese's peanut butter cups. Like my hubby who's also been known to down an entire bag in a single sitting, she thought they were so incredible that she hid under my Mom's dining room table and ate them long after she'd been told not to.

Yep, she's got a major sweet tooth. Just like her Mama and Auntie Christa. :)

The Thrill of Hope

I'll admit, once December 10 rolls around, I'm already suffering from major Christmas music fatigue, and this year, sadly, is no exception.

For fear of sounding downright grinch-y let me explain, I absolutely love Christmas music. But considering that every shop owner and radio station in town insists on playing it earlier and earlier every year, well, by this time, I've already heard "Santa Baby" and "Silver Bells" by every artist who's ever bothered recording it like 3,245 times. Just yesterday, I heard John Lennon's "Happy Christmas (The War is Over)" six times in the span of two hours. Good song or not, a girl can only take so much—especially with Yoko singing back-up.

But there is one line of one song that gets me every time, no matter how many times I've heard it. Even if the singer is butchering the vocals, something that happens routinely with "O Holy Night" considering the otherworldly key its in, hearing the "the thrill of hope/the weary world rejoices/for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn" always resonates with me.

And I think what makes it such a crowd-pleaser is because we're all in such desperate need of hope.

Just this week, a former music industry acquaintance of mine's fiancé was taken far too soon in a horrific car crash. Another colleague's beautiful wife and mother of two gorgeous baby boys, is having surgery on a brain tumor next week. I've had friends lose newborn babies and others lose their jobs and financial livelihood. I also know way too people who feel nothing but abandoned and alone during what's billed as "the most wonderful time of the year," and it just breaks your heart.

Even in the grander global scale, the sheer absence of hope is always reliably ripe for the reading on your favorite news website, whether it's what happened at Virginia Tech yesterday, a place that's already known such tragedy and loss, the abuse of countless innocent children or the widespread famine and war that never seems to go away.

The thrill of hope. Even when it feels so incredibly far away like it has this week, and even this year, just being reminded of it and the true Hope, does wonders for the soul—even if you're a bit of a grump about the same Christmas songs being played in a seemingly endless loop.