Erin O'Mara

Dear Santa, I hope you're well as you ramp up to the biggest night of your year! I've been really, really good this year. My 2023 behavior borders on exemplary.

Sometimes, the mental gymnastics I perform to access even the tiniest bit of gratitude are so extreme, I'm sure I'll rupture a muscle.

Did a coven of nutritionists invent bobbing for apples? Only powerful witchcraft could convince people to dunk their heads in a bucket of water swirling with the oily lip balm, sweat, saliva and snot of every stranger who already bobbed — all to come up with an apple. An apple!

I was 20, traveling in a van caravan with fellow students to study the geology and ecology of the West. By random chance, I was sharing a bench seat in a van across the endless plains of Kansas with a person who quickly became my No. 1 fan.

I've been thinking about my personal brand and the signals I put out, some intentional and some not, that tell people who I am. I love Chips Ahoy because they're chock-full of chocolate chips, they taste great, and every cookie delivers every time.

Graduation season, for those of us cheering from the stands, is thrilling. That moment when the person you root for walks the stage means everything.

A year ago, when my garden should have been thick with zucchini vines, my crop was a flop. The plants were weak and spindly from the start. I fertilized, watered and sweet-talked, coaxing a single anemic blossom into being.

I just had my annual ophthalmology appointment and made my annual call to my parents to share the doctor's compliments on the eye surgeries I had as a child.

The thick blanket of snow glitters under a nearly full moon and the stars are poking through the navy sky. I love picking out the dippers.