He stood there tall and dashing, peering down at her with a set of mesmerizing sapphire eyes. It wasn__ the eyes that had her sex-drive squealing into overdrive; it was that_hair. Now, Tarrah had never really been into redheads before, but damn, she sure as hell would be willing to convert.
From the baking aisle to the post office line to the wrapping paper bin in the attic, women populate every dark corner of Christmas. Who got up at 4 a.m. to put the ham in the oven? A woman. . . . Who sent the Christmas card describing her eighteen-year-old son's incarceration as 'a short break before college?' A woman. Who remembered to include batteries at the bottom of each stocking? A woman. And who gets credit for pulling it all off?Santa.That's right. A man.
A Year of Biblical Womanhood
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From the baking aisle to the post office line to the wrapping paper bin in the attic, women populate every dark corner of Christmas. Who got up at 4 a.m. to put the ham in the oven? A woman. . . . Who sent the Christmas card describing her eighteen-year-old son's incarceration as 'a short break before college?' A woman. Who remembered to include batteries at the bottom of each stocking? A woman. And who gets credit for pulling it all off?Santa.That's right. A man.
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So what__ your name?_ the stranger asked.Tarrah pulled his shirt away from her head and held out her hand. __arrah. Tarrah Reid.__e slipped his hand into hers, his cheeks stiffening as he held back a smile.Tarrah sighed, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She was completely aware of the fact that she held the name of a famous Hollywood actress. The association actually helped with her __hristmas floozy_ persona during the holidays, so she__ never really minded.
Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as she pressed closer. Then her lips parted to his, and there was no mistaking the passion in her response. Wild and sweet_ His eyes were closed, but in his mind__ eye he saw the lights of the giant tree, and he knew he__ found a Christmas memory worth keeping.
...And then, just when everything is bearing down on us to such an extent that we can scarcely withstand it, the Christmas message comes to tell us that all our ideas are wrong, and that what we take to be evil and dark is really good and light because it comes from God. Our eyes are at fault, that is all. God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, light in darkness, succor in abandonment. No evil can befall us; whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed as love and rules the world and our lives.
The more death, the more birth. People are entering, others are exiting. The cry of a baby, the mourning of others. When others cry, the other are laughing and making merry. The world is mingled with sadness, joy, happiness, anger, wealth, poverty, etc.
And so to tame Christmas we spin myths to temper the story, we create our own caricatures to speak our own lines into the script, we gift ourselves to enhance an adventure now lagging, and we think we__e on a grand adventure when we__e completely forgotten what an adventure is.