Driven to Tears

End-of-the-year rush at work combined with holiday deadlines, menus, and shopping? Add a couple tablespoons of sleep deprivation to the bowl, and you may be ready to collapse headfirst into your Christmas cookie dough.

And how exactly does one manage a household and children in this toxic mix? My kids are all nearly out of the house now (or apartment, as I should now say), but the memories are still quite fresh: negotiating the endless school choral and instrumental music concerts (and finding suitable jacket/pants/shoes for said concerts for a rapidly growing boy), teacher gifts, term papers and finals. Did your kid's team make the final round in regionals? Back into the car, Mom. Keep driving, baby. Yikes. Will someone hand me a drink, please? (After I finish the day's driving, of course ....)

And then there's the email. This post from Ben Pentreath says it much better than I can here from RPD Headquarters. (The Royal Danish wedding video is a real kicker, by the way.) Please read this post. It's particularly timely.

I regularly chat with the tellers where I do the banking for my firm. Nathan, who assisted me yesterday afternoon, was shocked to hear that I receive work emails on the weekends. "Oh, my God," he told me, "you and everyone else you work with should charge fifty dollars an email. Seriously." Nathan, I couldn't agree more.

That would pay for lots of holiday gifts, wouldn't it?

Here's my tonic for you. The Police in pure Zenyatta Mendotta goodness, back in the day. Kick off your shoes, turn up the volume and enjoy, everyone!

See also, Friday Morning Music: What the World Needs Now (Is Love Sweet Love)