I just got home from the grocery store. I have food defrosting on the counter as I write this because even using the little electric cart to get through the store I am totally exhausted. Of course I spent an hour and a half at the YMCA doing water aerobics before going to the store, but still. The parking lot was full. I was on my third and what would have been final pass when a space opened up within reasonable walking distance and I grabbed it. In the store I saw more overstressed half-in-a panic folks than I have seen since my last shift in a psychiatric ward. It was the worst I have ever seen it, although I usually try to avoid shopping on Christmas Eve. The check-out lines were all backed up halfway through the store. People were coping, each according to their gifts. Some were chatting cheerfully in the check out line and humming along to the holiday carols on the sound system. Some were frazzled and cranky. There were more of the latter than the former I am sad to report. Sometimes being a pagan is a total blessing. I am home to stay now, except for a trip late this evening to the Episcopal Cathedral for midnight mass. We go for the music, and whenever I hear the priest say Father, Son and Holy Spirit, I just pretend he is saying Maiden, Mother and Crone. Hey, a trinity is a trinity, right?