Pam Stone

Hey Aunty Pam, It's that time of year again. I've written to you before and am writing again because my husband and I are having our annual fight over the Christmas tree.

Here we are with the holidays upon us and Christmas music, generally secular, surrounds us as we shop, entertain, and attend the obligatory office party. This year, Hanukkah also begins on December 25th, but except for Adam Sandler's ‘The Chanukah Song,' we rarely hear any selections from the Festival of Lights, although there are many from which to choose: Ma'oz Tzur, Oh Hanukkah, and a personal favorite of mine from Peter, Paul and Mary, ‘Light One Candle.'

You know how it is around the holidays, the little stocking stuffers that friends and colleagues sweetly leave: the festive mug filled with a pouch of gourmet hot cocoa mix on your desk, the Christmas cactus on your front porch, the trough of Prosecco—sorry, too much information. I'm quite happy with a single bottle.

Dear Aunty Pam, I am at my wit's end with my husband of 43 years and I hope you have some sage advice I can show him.

As the holidays wind to a close, Americans can exhale, loosen their belts a hole (or three), and curb their anxiety around porch pirates— those unspeakables who steal delivered boxes of goods before the rightful owner can retrieve them. This year, their dirty deeds resulted in many gifts not being given or received. Thieves made away with anything Amazon could have delivered: plasma TVs, toys, clothing…

A friend and colleague where I work recently lost her father to a drunk driver. She was very close to her dad and has naturally been devastated. I decided to send her flowers, and another young woman I work with, ‘Jennifer,' said she wished she could do that too, but she's so broke she can't afford it. I said, ‘How about if I sign the card from both of us?' She was really grateful for that and thanked me.

Before I proceed, let me gently guide those to whom I'm very grateful for reading my columns that they are indeed called…columns. It may be that there are all sorts of digital media with their own titles—blogs, vlogs, etc.—that are confusing to some.

Well, it's happened again. Just because we got a little snowfall, my wife said we had to take in her brother, his two teen kids, and their stupid dog, who jumps all over everything and starts fighting with our dog.

For the years that I enjoyed hosting a regionally syndicated talk radio show from our farm, I had the distinct pleasure of working with colleagues Bob and Sheri— giants in the radio biz, and in over 100 markets across the country. Cerebral, slightly dour and always funny, Bob Lacey has been a public fixture in Charlotte for decades.

Dear Aunty Pam, Do you have any advice or suggestions that will help me from being accosted by my co-workers and Facebook friends to buy Girl Scout cookies?