I still like to go to bookstores for the sole purpose of perusing the latest issues, but I don't feel ashamed of this obsession any more. The magazines below are just a few that I read, but I will read anything from "Men's Health" to "Parenting" to "Wired." And if you know me, you know that I've actually purchased copies of "US Weekly."

“Texas Monthly”
"Texas Monthly" is all about the nooks and crannies of my home state. From down-home diners and smoke houses with dusty back porches to the best ice-cold rivers to float in the middle of July, this magazine shows proud Texans what they really have to be proud of. I read it now because it takes me back. I read it then because I fantasized about writing for them someday. Maybe I will.

“Self”
"Self" empowers women to be their best selves, while sort of removing the notion that we all have to be skinny blonds with large breasts. They occasionally feature such models, but for the most part they provide realistic goals for those of us dying for a normal self-image after overdosing on Cosmo, Vogue, and Elle.

“O”
As if you didn't know, "O" is Oprah's baby. The target market is women ages 30 to 60+, which makes me a little too young to fully appreciate the content. But I like it because it gives readers a peek into Oprah's world, has great recipes, and just has a warm, motherly feel to it.

“Marie Claire”
I just flipped through this magazine for the first time about a year ago. I'd skipped over it on the racks, writing it off as another makeup/clothes/body/boy obsessed publication. It does have that sort of content but in a classier way. It feeds those indulgences that are so ingrained, that our feminist sides want so badly to rebel against, but there's something that it has that the others don't.

I gave up smoking a couple of years ago. I really loved it and still fantasize about sitting on the porch with my sisters, smoking and chatting into the night. I gave up Diet Coke about a month ago. I was feeling kind of hooked and didn't like that.

I guess what happens next is filling those voids with good stuff.

First off, it's a helluva lot warmer than Chicago right now. I'd play with my pal, Catherine, say "hi" to my favorite Starbucks people, grab a drink at Lamberts Barbecue, then go for a long drive in the Hill Country. Sigh… How could anyone resist?

My original resolution was to be on time, all the time. I’m notoriously late and have been known to stall so much that I’ve been late for job interviews. I was significantly late for my first date with Dave, which caused me so much stress that I really won’t forget that night. My dad once told me that being late for a meeting with someone tells that person that you don’t value their time. That always stuck with me in a way that makes me feel guilty and anxious.

So, I changed my resolution. I’m a very anxious person. So much so that I’ve considered taking medication for my almost constant anxiety. Instead of going that route, I’m going to work on staying in the moment. Every time anxiety starts welling up or depression tightens it’s grip, I’m going to try to bring my mind back to what’s happening that very moment. To me, this is the ultimate meditative practice, which will hopefully help me overcome those issues.

Or, at the very least, it might help me be on time, all the time.

2. If you find yourself standing in a long line at a popular coffee shop chain, please don’t get mad at the baristas. That company is cutting back on labor to save some money, and the baristas are probably as aggravated as you are.

3. I’ve been obsessively entering to win ApartmentTherapy.com’s holiday giveaways. I haven’t shared this with you, because I though you’d try to win these awesome gifts too and lower my chances. But I felt guilty about hording my knowledge. Happy holidays.

I’d like to add that we don’t mind supplying you with cup of hot water for your own tea bag, if you don’t mind tipping us in return. Also, I don’t want to hear about the really interesting thing you just learned while reading your book about China. I’m working.

As I backed out of the parking space the wheels spun and danced on the ice, and the radio gave me the weather report. Nine degrees at Midway, two degrees at the lake. The wind chill is four below. I smiled as she said this. Four below. I don’t recall ever feeling four below. I’ve felt 32 degrees plenty of times: the walk-in freezer at the restaurant I worked at in college, the ice cubes used to keep my favorite cocktail chilled, the pitcher of ice I use to calibrate the milk thermometers at work.

But I don’t remember seeing the roads lacquered to a black sheen. I don’t remember my finger tips burning as they warm up. I don’t remember my skin ever being so dry.

I’m starting to forget what those sticky, luke warm Texas winters feel like.

After work, me and my friend who closed the store with me drove around town looking for an open restaurant. We were hungry and tired and wishing for someone to wait on us for once. We finally found an open diner. As we commiserated over cheeseburgers and Cokes, I thought about my parents when they were my age, with two little ones living in a trailer park and saving what they could for a better home, a better life. I felt disgusted with my bad attitude and thankful to be sitting there with my good friend sharing a warm meal, however unconventional.

I was never one for holidays. My family usually has me dreading them. Maybe it’s being so far from them now, maybe it’s because I’m figuring out that the hard parts of life never really let up, but this time around it’s different. I’m looking forward to Christmas.

Hold me.