Daily Archives: December 26, 2025

Came for Yule Peace… and Accidentally Summoned Productivity ✨🌲

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(A Very Serious Guide to Ancient Rituals I Absolutely Perform in Pajamas)

I told myself I was going to “keep Yule simple this year.”

Then I lit one candle…
Which led to herbs…
Which led to intentions…
Which led to me talking to my house like it’s a sentient being with opinions.

Congratulations.
It’s Yule.

First—What Is Yule, Really? (And Why Our Ancestors Were Way More Practical Than Us)

Yule is ancient. Like older-than-Christmas ancient.

Long before shopping carts and Mariah Carey, Germanic and Norse cultures celebrated the Winter Solstice—the longest night of the year. The goal was simple:

👉 Survive winter
👉 Welcome the sun back
👉 Don’t die
👉 Be grateful if you didn’t die

Fire, evergreen plants, food preservation, and light rituals weren’t aesthetic—they were life insurance.

So yes… lighting a candle for “manifestation” today is spiritual.
But originally, it was also: “Please come back, Sun. We need crops.”

Yule Candle Ritual (a.k.a. Mood Lighting With Purpose)

History

Fire symbolized the sun itself—hope returning after darkness. Ever notice how every winter holiday has candles, lights, or flames? That’s Yule showing up uninvited and being right.

How to Do It (Modern, No Goat Sacrifice Version)

You’ll need:

  • One candle (white, gold, red, or green)
  • A quiet space (or at least kids temporarily distracted)

Steps:

  1. Light the candle.
  2. Stare at it like you’re waiting for answers.
  3. Think about:
    • What you want more of next year
    • What you are DONE carrying
  4. Say (out loud or in your head):
    “I welcome light, warmth, clarity, and good decisions.”

Extinguish safely. Do not blow on it like a birthday candle unless you want chaotic energy.

Evergreen Cleansing & Protection (AKA: Sage’s Winter Cousins)

History

Evergreens—pine, cedar, juniper—were sacred because they stayed alive in winter. Ancient people saw this as resilience magic, not décor.

How to Do It

You’ll need:

  • Pine, cedar, or juniper (fresh or dried)
  • A fire-safe bowl or incense burner

Steps:

  1. Light the herbs until they smolder.
  2. Walk through your home slowly.
  3. Say (firmly, lovingly):
    “This space is safe, warm, and blessed.”

If your house feels lighter afterward, that’s not placebo—it’s you setting boundaries.

Gratitude Offering (Low-Effort, High Impact)

History

Offerings were how ancient people said thank you to nature spirits, ancestors, and the forces that didn’t freeze them to death.

How to Do It

You’ll need:

  • Bread, herbs, pinecones, seeds, or fruit

Steps:

  1. Step outside at sunrise or sunset.
  2. Place the offering on the ground.
  3. Say thank you—for warmth, food, shelter, and surviving another year.

That’s it. No chanting required. Gratitude is universal.

The Manifestation Jar (Because Witches Were Just Organized Planners)

History

Spell jars date back centuries and were basically intentions you could hold. Our ancestors didn’t journal—they bottled goals.

How to Make One

You’ll need:

  • A small jar
  • Cinnamon (prosperity)
  • Pine needles (protection)
  • Orange peel (joy)
  • A piece of paper

Steps:

  1. Write ONE intention. Be specific.
  2. Place it in the jar.
  3. Add the ingredients.
  4. Seal with wax (or a lid—this is a judgment-free altar).

Keep it until Imbolc (early February), then release or refresh it.

Decorating the Yule Tree (The Pagan Roots of Christmas)

Yes. The tree was pagan first. Sorry, history.

Evergreens symbolized eternal life. Ornaments represented the sun, harvest, and protection. Lights? Again—sun worship, but festive.

So if you’re decorating a tree while setting intentions, congratulations. You’re accidentally honoring your ancestors.

Gentle (But Necessary) Disclaimer

This blog is for educational and entertainment purposes only.
It is not medical, religious, or legal advice.
Please do not burn your house down or blame me if your manifestation includes emotional growth.

About the Author

A.L. Childers is a writer, humorist, and spiritual storyteller who blends ancient wisdom with modern sarcasm. Her books explore healing, history, resilience, and the uncomfortable truth that our ancestors were smarter than we give them credit for.

📚 Follow me for more writing like this—and check out my books, where food, folklore, healing, humor, and history collide beautifully. If you like learning while laughing, you’re in the right place.

I Smudged My House Last Night and Woke Up Outside 🌿🔥

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(A Spiritual Cleaning Gone Slightly… Too Well)

I saged my house last night for peace, clarity, and positive energy.

I woke up outside.

No blankets.
No pillow.
Just vibes… and consequences.

The Intention Was Pure

Let the record show: my intentions were immaculate.

I wanted to:

  • Clear negative energy
  • Reset the mood
  • Evict bad vibes without involving law enforcement

I lit the sage with confidence. The smoke curled dramatically like it had opinions. I waved it through doorways, corners, closets, and one room that absolutely knew what it did.

I spoke affirmations.
I set boundaries.
I may have raised my voice once or twice.

The Sage Took It Personally

Somewhere between the hallway and the kitchen, the sage stopped being a tool and became management.

It didn’t cleanse gently.
It conducted a full audit.

The sage said:

  • ✨ This anxiety? Gone.
  • ✨ That lingering resentment? Removed.
  • ✨ You? …Questionable.

I felt judged. Spiritually HR’d.

The Morning After

I woke up refreshed, aligned, and… outdoors.

Apparently, the sage didn’t just remove negative energy—it streamlined operations.

Nonessential personnel were released.

Including me.

The house stood behind me like:
“We wish you well in your future endeavors.”

What We’ve Learned Here

Smudging is not a suggestion—it’s a negotiation.

If you sage with authority:

  • Be prepared for accountability
  • Know your worth
  • And keep your keys close

Because sage doesn’t ask who pays the mortgage.
It asks who’s disrupting the peace.

Spiritual Cleansing: A Warning Label

Side effects may include:

  • Sudden clarity
  • Emotional detox
  • Unscheduled self-reflection
  • Temporary outdoor living

Consult your intuition before use.

Satirical Disclaimer

This blog is satire.
No actual sage bundles were harmed.
No homeowners were permanently evicted (yet).
This is humor, not spiritual instruction—please sage responsibly.

About the Author

A.L. Childers is a writer, humorist, and spiritual realist who blends wit, lived experience, and cultural commentary into stories that feel uncomfortably familiar. Whether writing about healing, systems, food, or sage that works overtime, she tells the truth with humor and heart.

📚 Follow me for more writing like this—and check out my books, where wellness, humor, healing, and real life collide. If you’ve ever laughed, healed, or side-eyed your own choices… you’re my people.

The Soup That Raised Half of Us: A Love Letter to Vegetable Beef Soup 🥣

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There are meals you eat… and meals that raise you.

Vegetable beef soup is the latter.

This is the soup that simmered on back burners while bills were paid, kids were raised, winters were survived, and nobody had time to pretend dinner needed to be fancy. This is the soup that says, “You’ll be full, you’ll be warm, and you’ll be just fine.”

And honestly? In today’s world, that’s gourmet.

A Pot Full of Common Sense

Vegetable beef soup doesn’t ask for perfection.
It asks for what you have.

A pound of ground beef.
A couple of potatoes.
Whatever vegetables are left in the freezer, fridge, or cabinet that whisper, “Use me before I expire.”

It’s the original anti-waste, anti-pretension, pro-survival meal.

And somehow—miraculously—it always tastes better the next day. Like wisdom.

Why This Soup Never Goes Out of Style

Because it understands reality.

  • It stretches when money doesn’t
  • It feeds many with little
  • It forgives substitutions
  • It doesn’t judge canned vegetables
  • It improves with time

Vegetable beef soup doesn’t care if you measure.
It cares if you show up hungry.

The Secret Ingredient Is Always Memory

Every family’s version is different, but the feeling is the same.

This is the soup of:

  • Snow days and sick days
  • Big pots and bigger spoons
  • Crackers crumbled by small hands
  • Second helpings that meant someone loved you

It’s not trendy.
It’s reliable.

And reliability, my friend, is underrated.

A Modern-Day Superfood (Don’t Argue With Me)

Let’s be honest—this soup checks all the boxes:

  • Protein
  • Vegetables
  • Broth-based comfort
  • Budget-friendly
  • Freezer-friendly
  • Gut-friendly
  • Soul-repairing

No influencer needed.
No $14 seasoning packet.
Just a pot and some patience.

If You’ve Never Made It—Start Here

This isn’t a recipe blog that yells at you for using canned peas.

This is permission.

Use what you have.
Simmer until it smells like home.
Serve with crackers, cornbread, or whatever makes sense.

And for the love of all things holy—make enough for leftovers.

Gentle Disclaimer

This blog is for inspiration and enjoyment, not medical or nutritional advice.
Please adjust ingredients to your dietary needs and consult a professional if you have specific health conditions.
Also, eating this soup may cause sudden nostalgia and the urge to call someone you miss.

About the Author

A.L. Childers is a writer, storyteller, and comfort-food realist who believes the best meals come from memory, necessity, and love—not perfection. Through her books and blogs, she weaves food, family, healing, and lived experience into stories readers recognize immediately.

📚 If you enjoyed this blog, be sure to follow me and explore my books—where food, healing, humor, and real life collide. You might find a recipe… or yourself.

No Room at the Capitol: A Nativity Scene Denied for “Staffing Issues”

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Breaking news from the land of marble columns and moral grandstanding:
The Supreme Court has ruled that a nativity scene cannot be placed in Washington, D.C.
Not because of religion.
Not because of the Constitution.
But because—brace yourself—they couldn’t find three wise men and a virgin.

Let’s all take a moment of silence for the lost art of irony.

The Ruling (As Best as We Can Understand It)

According to this entirely fictional, painfully plausible explanation, the issue wasn’t church versus state. It was human resources. Apparently, Washington, D.C. conducted a thorough search and came up empty-handed.

No wise men.
No virgin.
Plenty of opinions.
Endless committees.

But the casting requirements? Impossible.

A City Overqualified for Everything Except This

Let’s be clear—this is satire. But satire only works because it’s uncomfortably close to the truth.

Washington is full of:

  • Advisors who advise advisors who advise task forces
  • Panels to study the formation of panels
  • Press conferences announcing future press conferences

And yet… not a single wise man could be verified.

As for the virgin?
Background checks stalled. Definitions debated. Committees formed. Funding approved. Study postponed until after the next election cycle.

The Real Miracle

The real miracle isn’t the nativity scene—it’s that anyone expected this to go differently.

This is a city where:

  • Accountability is optional
  • Wisdom is outsourced
  • Purity tests apply only to the taxpayers

So naturally, the nativity scene failed the vetting process.

Let the Record Show

This decision was not about faith.
It was about feasibility.

Because finding three wise men and a virgin in modern political culture is asking far too much.

Even Joseph would’ve said, “Yeah… that tracks.”

Satire Disclaimer

This article is satire.
It is written for humor, commentary, and the preservation of sanity.
Any resemblance to real rulings, real people, or real logic is purely coincidental—and deeply concerning.

Please do not cite this in court. Or at Thanksgiving.

Why Satire Still Matters

Satire exists to point out the absurd without shouting.
To laugh where screaming would be exhausting.
And to remind us that sometimes the joke isn’t religion, politics, or tradition—

It’s us.

About the Author

A.L. Childers is a satirical essayist, cultural commentator, and prolific author known for blending sharp wit with uncomfortable truths. Her writing explores politics, systems, history, and modern absurdities through humor, irony, and unapologetic observation. She believes laughter is sometimes the only reasonable response to unreasonable systems.

A Very Merry Christmas to the Side Chicks 🎄🐸( When Holiday Audacity Meets Reality)

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(When Holiday Audacity Meets Reality)

There’s a special kind of confidence required to think you’re meeting the family when you’re actually the plot twist.

Enter the holiday season’s most honest spokesperson:
A green frog.
A glass of tea.
And the quiet judgment of Christmas reality.

Let’s Sip on This Together ☕

“Merry Christmas to the side chicks who thought they were meeting the family this Christmas.”

If this meme had a sound, it would be the soft clink of ice in a glass and the echo of choices were made.

This isn’t cruelty.
This is clarity.

Christmas has a way of exposing truths faster than any group chat leak:

  • Who gets a stocking
  • Who gets introduced as “a friend”
  • And who suddenly realizes they’re spending Christmas Eve alone with Chinese takeout and audacity

Holiday Traditions, Reimagined

Every family has traditions:

  • Matching pajamas
  • Awkward political arguments
  • That one uncle who overshares

And then there are unspoken traditions:

  • If you haven’t met the family by December… you’re not meeting them in December.
  • If you’re told “maybe next year,” that year is fictional.
  • If you’re still labeled “private,” the relationship is public—just not with you.

Sip accordingly.

Why This Meme Works So Well

Because it says everything without saying your name.

It’s not angry.
It’s not loud.
It’s just… observant.

And that’s the most dangerous kind of truth.

A Gentle Christmas Reminder 🎁

If you’re someone’s secret:

  • You’re not their miracle
  • You’re their convenience

And Christmas is when convenience gets ghosted.

But also—chin up. Growth season often starts with clarity season.

Satire Disclaimer

This blog is satire.
It is intended for humor, social commentary, and collective holiday laughter.
If you feel personally attacked, please consult your situationship and reflect quietly.

No frogs were harmed in the making of this blog.

About the Author

A.L. Childers is a satirical writer and cultural observer who specializes in humor rooted in uncomfortable truths. Known for blending wit, social commentary, and unapologetic honesty, she writes about relationships, modern dating culture, and the moments when memes tell the truth better than people ever could.

Women Are Angels… But Also Resourceful as Hell 🧹

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(A Holiday-Season Sermon on Wings, Broomsticks, and Sheer Audacity)

The sign sat there quietly. Unassuming. Decorative. Innocent even.
And then it spoke the truth no self-help book has ever had the nerve to say out loud:

“Women are angels.
And when someone breaks our wings,
We simply continue to fly…
On a broomstick.
We’re flexible like that.”

I stood there staring at it longer than socially acceptable, nodding like someone who had just been personally validated by a plank of wood.

A Short History of Broken Wings

Women, historically speaking, have had their wings snapped more times than a dollar-store lawn chair.

By life.
By love.
By systems.
By people who said “just be patient” while actively standing on the feathers.

And yet—somehow—we keep flying.

Not gracefully.
Not quietly.
But effectively.

Sometimes with mascara running.
Sometimes with receipts.
Sometimes with caffeine and spite.

Enter: The Broomstick Era

Let’s talk about the broomstick for a moment, because this is where the wisdom lives.

The broomstick is not a downgrade.
It’s a pivot.

It says:

  • You took my wings? Cool. I adapted.
  • You blocked the sky? Fine. I found another route.
  • You underestimated me? Adorable.

This isn’t about magic.
It’s about problem-solving.

When flight plans are canceled, women invent transportation.

Why This Quote Hits So Hard

Because it captures the unspoken truth of womanhood:

We don’t stop when things break.
We rebuild with whatever is left.

Broken heart? Add humor.
Broken trust? Add boundaries.
Broken wings? Add a broomstick and keep it moving.

And then society has the nerve to call us intense.

A Holiday Observation 🎄

The holidays are when this sign becomes less inspirational and more autobiographical.

This is the season where women:

  • Hold families together with duct tape and wine
  • Turn chaos into traditions
  • Smile politely while doing emotional labor like it’s cardio

Angels? Sure.
But angels with contingency plans.

The Real Moral of the Story

Flexibility isn’t weakness.
It’s survival with flair.

And if flying looks a little different these days—louder, sharper, broomstick-shaped—so be it.

We were never meant to break quietly.

Satire Disclaimer

This blog is satirical.
It is written for humor, empowerment, and the therapeutic joy of recognition.
No actual broomsticks are required for flight (though highly recommended for attitude).
Any resemblance to your life is intentional.

About the Author

A.L. Childers is a humorist, essayist, and cultural commentator known for blending wit with lived truth. She captures the resilience, sarcasm, and quiet rebellion of modern womanhood—one sharp observation at a time.

A Christmas Prayer from the Emergency Room

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Well, friends, I’m writing this from the emergency room—emotionally, spiritually, and financially.
Please say a prayer for me.

The Incident (As I Lived It)

I had begun the day with optimism. The kind that whispers, Today will be simple. Today will behave.
Feeling bold—reckless, even—I decided to go horseback riding. It had been a long time. A very long time. The sort of long time that erases muscle memory and replaces it with confidence borrowed from youth and bad decisions.

At first, all was calm.
The horse was steady.
The ride was gentle.
My pride was intact.

Then it happened.

The pace quickened.
The wind rushed past.
Time folded in on itself.

Before I could ask sensible questions like why is this happening or where are the exits, the horse took off—full speed, no warning, no consent. I clutched desperately, lost my balance, and felt the cold grip of fate seize my foot in the stirrup as the horse continued its merciless charge.

I screamed.
I hollered.
I negotiated with God, the Universe, and even the devil himself!

The horse did not stop.

Salvation Arrives (Wearing a Red Vest)

Just as I accepted my destiny—to be dragged into legend, lore, and possibly the parking lot—a hero emerged. Not cloaked in armor. Not mounted on another horse.

But wearing the unmistakable uniform of retail management.

The Toys “R” Us manager came running, eyes wide with the understanding of a man who has seen too much, and unplugged the machine.

Yes.
The machine.

He gently removed the remaining quarters from my hand—my dangerous hand—and informed me that for my safety, and possibly for insurance reasons, I would not be riding again that day.

Or ever.

Reflection, Christmas Edition 🎄

Now, some of you may feel confused. Others may feel relieved. A few of you are still reading, which tells me everything I need to know about human curiosity.

Christmas has a way of doing this—drawing us in with sincerity, prayer requests, and dramatic openings… only to reveal that we have been emotionally led through a toy store on a coin-operated horse.

And yet, isn’t that the season?

We come prepared for reverence and end up laughing at ourselves in fluorescent lighting, clutching quarters and dignity in equal measure.

A Gentle Holiday Truth

Not every emergency is an emergency.
Not every horse is a horse.
And not every prayer request ends in stitches.

Sometimes it ends in laughter, self-awareness, and a quiet promise to stop pretending we’re younger than we are.

It is not every morning one prepares for battle with a horse, nor does one expect such a creature to be plugged into a wall between the video games and the clearance aisle. Yet here we are. Life, as it turns out, has a sense of humor—and it shops retail.

Satire Disclaimer

This story is satire.
It is written for humor, seasonal mischief, and to gently remind readers to read to the end before panicking.
No actual emergency room visits occurred.
No horses were harmed.
One ego was mildly bruised.

Please do not forward this as a real prayer request. Or do. Christmas is chaos.

About the Author

A.L. Childers is a humorist, storyteller, and cultural observer known for weaving long-form satirical tales that lure readers in with sincerity before handing them a punchline wrapped in tinsel. Writing in a Dickens/Childers style, she blends warmth, wit, and human folly—because sometimes laughter is the only sensible response to adulthood.