One of the things I've learned, but somehow keep forgetting, is that the best-laid plans are at risk of imploding. That's especially true at the holidays when things are scheduled to the milli-second, to the last piece of cookie dough, to the final gift tag, to that one last  calendar entry. It's a time when we especially want things to go perfectly, even if they don't come close the rest of the year.

A day before Christmas, my sister and her family arrived here from Chicago. I expected them in the afternoon so I had the morning to run those final errands. I got home at 12:05, five minutes later than I'd scheduled, to begin cooking -- a final batch of cookies, the first of two coffee cakes, entrees for the Christmas morning brunch, a fruit tray for later in the day. They arrived slightly later than expected, but that gave me a few minutes of extra kitchen time. But moments after they began sticking package after wrapped package under the Christmas tree, my sister pointed out that my dog was sick. And so she was -- in the living room, the hallway, the entrance way and the dining room. That was my sister's family's cue to skedaddle to my brothers' house in Lititz. I was left cleaning the carpets and floors for the next hour. Not how I planned things.

Christmas Day I was scheduled to work at my job. But before heading in at 12:30, I hosted a Christmas brunch for 12. All went well. Until about an hour and a half after I arrived at work. My sister called to say that she was in the emergency room with my dad, who would end up being hospitalized for five days and miss Christmas night activities and the big family gathering Dec. 26. Health problems were not part of the plan. Then came the snow, which nearly, but did not, upend other scheduled events. Not how I'd planned things.

Which brings me to my one New Year's resolution: to no longer be a slave to my itinerary.  As somebody once said if you want God to laugh, tell him about your plans.

My daughter and I watched part of Oprah's "Ultimate Favorite Things'' show on Monday. It was the second of back-to-back giveaways, and the last of her talk-show TV run. If you've never seen it, Oprah talks about the things she loves -- everything from a basil keeper to a Coach purse to a Pottery Barn jewelry box holding diamond earrings to, yes, even a Volkswagen Beetle -- and then presents every audience member with one of each item. As in, a basil keeper, the diamond earrings, the purse and the car ... and much, much more.

The audience goes wild and, several times on Monday, I could barely watch. Mostly because I wanted to be in Chicago at that show receiving those same gifts. I was jealous. Big time. Then my daughter pipes up: "Mom, wouldn't it be great to be there?! You know, to give away all of those gifts?''

Oh my gosh! Instantly, I felt very small and selfish. My daughter had the right idea, and certainly without any prodding from me. I was focusing on the receiving, my 11-year-old on the giving. It's not that it wouldn't be fun to get some gifts, she confided later, but imagine giving so much away. Lesson learned, just in time for Thanksgiving!