We decorated our Christmas tree today. My three nephews and one niece, and I. Isn't it funny how your first thought is to make it look perfect, yet when the decorations fly across the room amidst chaotic yells, the branches get a little bent, the overdose of tinsel almost diguises the tree entirely, and it's no longer a tree but a mass of lights, bells, and those beads you made when you were five, that's when you rethink perfection. The sparkling mass in our lounge may not be visually aesthetic, but to me it's perfect.
A girl I work with is teaching me Chinese. Mei guan xi means no worries.
Today has been in some instances productive (getting some Christmas pressies done) , in some instances aggravating (namely unproductive phone calls), and in some instances relaxing (having a cup of tea and watching desperate housewives).
Last Sunday Brett spoke about "peace". Something he said that stuck with me was, "If peace is something someone can be talked into, is it really peace?" Or something along those lines. It got me thinking... If you talk yourself into peace, is it peace? Or what is it? Is tolerance peace? Does peace come to you, or do you "make" it? Maybe we should all "give peace a chance". Or sweetcorn for that matter ;)