Needles are falling, the tree skirt’s plain fabric, The bulbs are all scratched up and losing their magic, Only three-fifths of the light strands will flash, And my favorite ornament dropped with a crash. Dust has built up on my ancient decor; It’s much too expensive to go out and buy more. Un-iced cookies take ...

Raise your hand if you consider yourself a perfectionist. My hand is raised to the ceiling. I recently decided to embrace imperfection, and now I am a recovering perfectionist. But I am not far enough along in recovery to put my hand down. Perfectionism runs deep. It is not something I can toss out the ...