Merry Christmas Eve

Ah, Christmas Eve. Whether you’re celebrating with a full house or spending it solo, there’s something universal about the anticipation that hangs in the air.

It’s like the entire world is holding its breath, except instead of silence, it’s the sound of wrapping paper and someone shouting, “WHO USED ALL THE BUTTER?”

Let’s not pretend Christmas Eve is all serene candlelight and cozy moments by the fire. It’s also a hotbed of last-minute panic. There’s always someone who forgot batteries, someone who just realized they wrapped a gift with last year’s “Happy Birthday” paper, and someone who thought it was a good idea to try a new cookie recipe at 10 p.m.

And yet, Christmas Eve has a way of reminding us what really matters. Maybe it’s the twinkle of lights. Maybe it’s the smell of gingerbread. Or maybe it’s just the quiet moments in between, where you catch yourself looking around and realizing how much love surrounds you—even if it’s buried under a pile of unopened Amazon boxes.

For kids, Christmas Eve is pure magic. It’s leaving cookies and milk out for Santa, wondering how he’ll fit his fat patoot down the chimney, and trying desperately to stay awake long enough to hear reindeer hooves on the roof.

For adults it’s a bit different. You’re the one eating the cookies, debating whether you’re too old for pajamas with reindeer on them, and reflecting on the year that’s nearly over.

It’s bittersweet, isn’t it? There’s joy in traditions, but there’s also a quiet acknowledgment of time passing—a reminder to hold these moments close.

Whether your tree is perfectly Instagrammable, or leaning precariously to one side, whether your gifts are meticulously wrapped or shoved into whatever bags you could find, whether your family is all together or scattered across the miles—or the heavens—Christmas Eve isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence. Not presents, although those are pretty great too.

So here’s to the traditions, the chaos, and the quiet magic of Christmas Eve. May your evening be filled with laughter, love, and just the right amount of butter for those cookies.

And if you’re lucky, maybe even a little peace on Earth—or at least in your living room.

Merry Christmas Eve.

Direct deposit

Not long ago, I was freelancing at this agency that had a national car account, and wasn't too far from the beach. Which describes almost all of the agencies I freelance at.

But at this particular one, they had a little service they offered freelancers that others didn't. One that made my life easier. Ask anyone that knows me - I'm all about easy.

As far as I was concerned, this service was pure magic both in its concept as well as execution.

I speak of the freelancer's little helper, Direct Deposit.

Being a little compulsive, and always liking to keep a close eye on my money, for years I'd get a paycheck then make a mad dash to get to the bank before closing time and deposit it. But not anymore.

Now, I sign up whenever and wherever I can. Magically, my money appears in my account a day before payday. I can see it online. I can write checks against it. I can talk to it late at night, tell it my hopes, my dreams, my fears.

I might be getting off topic here.

The point is I used to be afraid of giant corporations being able to get their big corrupt hands on my bank account, and now I'm not. That's true for a lot of things in my life. Flying. Sushi. Adam Sandler movies.

Alright, I'm still afraid of Adam Sandler movies.

If you have the opportunity to get Direct Deposit where you work, I strongly suggest you do. It's nice when your company makes money appear in your account.

Of course, it'd be better if they could do it as fast as I make it disappear.