I have a confession to make: I'm addicted to the Hallmark Channel.
Oh, not all the time. In fact, the channel has been available to me all year and I didn't even know it. But something happens to me around Christmas. I get ... softer. Sappier, even. I want cute stories. I want happy endings. I want everything tied up with a bow and a smile in 90 minutes.
It's so out of character, it's alarming.
"WHAT are you watching?" my husband said as he peered in on me curiously the other day.
"Trading Christmas," I said promptly. "It's a really cute story about this widow who trades houses with . . ." He hurried down the hall. "No, that's fine," he called back. "I was just wondering."
But it didn't start with Trading Christmas, which is also a very fun book by Debbie Macomber. First was Mrs. Miracle. Then there was Call Me Mrs. Miracle. Both of those, coincidentally, are also books by Macomber. I'm betting she loves the Hallmark Channel, too. But it doesn't stop there. There's Holiday Engagement and Mistletoe Over Manhattan and Lucky Christmas and, well, you get the idea. It's Hallmark's Countdown to Christmas.
The movies are sweet, charming, formulaic. The set-up, the situation, the glitch and the solution. Normally, that would make me crazy. Where are the plot twists? The car chases? The murder, mayhem and mystery?
But not these days. I'm settling in with them with my blanket and my cinnamon tea and I'm perfectly content. Maybe, around Christmas, everybody wants a happy ending.