My sister is five years younger than me. Had she been born a boy, her name would have been Chad Michael Martinez. I can’t even imagine what it would have been like to have a younger brother. It’s always been my sister and me, two girls with girlish dreams and tomboyish ways. Not too long ago, my mother remarried. Her husband has a son from a previous marriage, and I often forget that this means I now have a stepbrother….
No doubt about it. The last fruitcake was made in 1911. In fact, there may possibly be only four or five left, and they’re just being passed around like hot potatoes every holiday season. I remember that my mother received a fruitcake from a co-worker years ago, and she rewrapped it and gave it to a neighbor the next day. I think I’ve even seen the very same one get circulated among my friends’ families. The recipient would ooh and…
I learned somewhere that the legend of Santa Claus began with a young man who threw a golden ball filled with gifts into a transom, and the golden ball landed in a stocking that had been hung up to dry. If that were to happen in this day and age, I imagine that the golden ball would be viewed with suspicion, just as Halloween candy is often viewed with suspicion. Aside from that, no one would be hanging stockings up…
The caroling turned out to be a success. It didn’t rain, enough people came to sing and drown out the tone-deaf Human Encyclopedia, and I had plenty of mulled wine in me to keep me warm and up for anything. If I had sound bites from the night, they would go as follows: “For five dollars we’ll sing ‘Silent Night’ and for ten we’ll leave you alone and go away.” “Five golden retrievers!” “Let’s have some mulled wine first. We’ll…
The second storm approaches, which will put a damper on the caroling plans tonight. Le Sigh. Share this post: