Ebenezer Scrooze may have spawned a daughter. Or I am channeling the Grinch again.
How many years has it been already when I really felt the Yuletide spirit take possession of my jaded soul and melt my frozen heart and warmed its cockles that the heat would spread to the tips of my toes and create a crimson flush across my cheeks? Three? Seven? Who would remember?
I used to make Christmas decorations in mid-September, be the one to insist on putting Japanese lanterns up by October, and be the first to sing Christmas carols while people still honored their dead.
Maybe that early frenzy robbed me of the novel feel for the holiday season as the years progressed.
I did buy some tinsels and shiny balls and glittered flowers yesterday. But when I got home and emptied the bags on the kitchen Continue reading Get Away From The Manger