Boy I sure hope I’m not gonna die. I understand how people do now.

This is not the best way to quit smoking.

So now I have pneumonia. I can’t speak. I have 20-minute coughing fits whenever I change position. I’ve seriously pulled out my left shoulder. I’m feeling vaguely nauseous all the time, and I’m almost done with a "Z-Pack" of antibiotics that I was so hoping would make it all better.

And now it’s Christmas Eve. No one has decorated the tree. My house is a disaster. My husband is starting to cough. My dad is in the dreary nursing home, my brother has left town, and I’ve missed two days of work at a job where I only work once a week – in the middle of system and online upgrades. My dissertation has to be completed within the next couple of months, and it looks like I may be in the hospital by the end of the week.

I’m sitting thinking all of those horrible thoughts, and then my little son walks up to me and puts his little hand on my forehead, and says, "Don’t worry Mommy, Santa’s gonna make you all better." Kids are really amazing. OK, I never really celebrated Christmas as a kid, maybe he knows something I don’t – might Santa make me all better? That would be really great.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Have a Great Kwansaa and Winter Solstice and Yule! And may your favorite major and minor deities remind you of all the reasons for the season. Health and happiness to you!