Joy in Valley Junction. by Patresa Hartman

I have five nieces and one nephew, and they are outrageous lunatics. I am so grateful for them and their ridiculousness that I can barely stand it. If they ever turn normal, I think the earth will turn sad sad sad. And so, every Christmas I try to find gifts that will encourage them to be weird. A great place to do this is at your local theater shop.

I discovered the treasures of a theater shop last Christmas when I wandered in grumpy and then lost myself in rock star wigs and glittery microphones. I bought a set for each, plus crazy Elton John glasses, and left the theater shop absolutely giddy and convinced I had found the secret to remaining joyful during stressful holidays. Yesterday, I returned to the theater shop and came out with top hats, moustaches, and magic wands. I giggled all the way down the street.

I learned something else yesterday...about shopping locally. Having worked earlier this year at a locally owned bookstore that had to close, I already understood the importance of supporting the little guys. But yesterday my body absorbed and noted a whole different energy in the small shops.

In Des Moines, we have the historic Valley Junction. I do not know why it's historic; but the signs say it is. It sits off railroad tracks by an old train depot in an old part of town. Small local businesses occupy a mixture of typical storefronts and old houses with large front porches. There are at least two antique stores on each block, a few coffee shops, a Mexican grocer, and three bead shops.

One of my favorites is the Fair World Gallery, which sells goods made by people in refugee camps all over the world. My nieces are receiving friendship beads made by a group of women who have moved to Des Moines from a Burundi refugee camp. Another favorite is a shop called Porch Light, where you can find a mix of new and antique household items. My coffee cup currently sits on a Hercules orange crate found in Porch Light's mix.

After a quiet and charming afternoon wandering through small, thoughtfully themed shops, I went to Target, and the mood shifted.

I like Target, typically. But I did not like it yesterday. Loud. Industrial. Crowded. I felt like a cog in a factory. I squinted through the flourescence, grabbed what I needed, waited in line with the other frowny pants, and then left as quickly as I could, hiking to my parking spot in the very back of a cornfield-sized lot.

The moral of this story is: I am grateful for the weirdness of my nieces and nephew, and I am grateful for the small shop owners who help me navigate Christmas shopping peacefully and joyfully.

Birthday Girl by Angie Ledbetter

Today is my baby's birthday. I can't believe she's 19, which makes me about 127, and I'm grateful for all that she is -- delightful, smart, moral, vivacious and just generally awesome. She always makes me laugh with her quick wit and quirky observations, which make me wonder if she'll be a writer one day. Like me, she observes the little details and hears several conversations going on around her simultaneously. I couldn't be more proud of/for her and her accomplishments and drive, but the best thing about my baby is her kindness and compassion for others.

A photo-holic (also like me), her gift from Dad and I is a storage unit for all the pictures she's saved to her hard drive Photo Bucket so it won't melt down from digital photo overload. And I will spend time today letting her know how precious she is to me. We will celebrate the joy she adds to others' lives.

I appreciate many aspects of life and the people who add so much to my existence, but none more than the gift of my children and their unique personalities. So, Happy Birthday, "Little Donkey." I hope someone forwards this to you since you accidentally blocked my email account long ago. *laugh* You were definitely worth the 26 hours of labor!