This morning my daughter woke up with a "scratchy throat".  Noting to myself that she (and my two boys) will be off for Christmas break in just four days--and that this isn't the first such occurrence on a Monday morning--I was less than sympathetic.

"Take something," I said.

She didn't want to.  She wanted to go back to bed.

"You were able to eat your breakfast okay," I offered.

"It comes and goes," she told me.

"Well maybe if  you take something, it'll go away again."

She trudged off in response, probably cursing her bad luck to have such a mean mother.  By the time she got ready to go (and yes, she took two ibuprofen and packed some lozenges), she was feeling much better.

So that gives me today to write.  And for a few more days, I get to live the dream, having the time and space and opportunity to write when I want to (well, mostly).

This morning, I had planned to write a blog about how I wished my writer self would go into hibernation during Christmas break, since I won't have the above mentioned freedom to write.  But you know what?  I think really, even when we writers aren't writing, we're thinking about writing, running our next rewrite through our heads, our characters are still talking to us, and we are ultimately recharging for our next writing session, no matter what the season.

I plan to have the best Christmas of all, knowing my words and all the possibilities they bring will be waiting for me in the New Year.

And I wish you all the merriest of Christmases too :)  Cheers!