My Favorite Christmas Memory

When I was little, we spent every Christmas at my grandparents' lovely house in Texas. My step-grandma always made lots of food and cookies and fudge. Their little dogs ran all over the place. Often times there was no snow (sadly).

When I was about six years old, I went to sleep after leaving cookies and milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. I woke up in the middle of the night. I heard noises from the roof. I went to the other bed and woke up my sister and we lay there and listened to the sound of reindeer paws until it went quiet. Disappointed that the magic ended so quickly, we crept out the playroom door to the banister at the very top of the stairs.

And heard packages rattling and wrapping rustling from the front parlor where the tree and stockings were. Was it Santa? It had to be.

The house was completely dark. All the bedroom doors along the hall were closed.

We couldn't go downstairs to the parlor though. My grandparents kept their dogs downstairs and they would bark as soon as we got close to the bottom of the staircase. And there was a motion-sensor light at the bottom so they were sure to wake up if they didn't hear us come down.

We stood there listening, excited by the magic and disappointed that we couldn't go down.

Eventually, the rattling stopped. We waited, hoping for more, but it never came. We crept back to bed.

And heard the sound of sleigh bells fading into the distance. We ran to the window, but couldn't see anything in the sky.

In the morning we were so excited about the night before. Santa left a note of thanks for the cookies and all around the kitchen island, on the white tile, were reindeer footprints! It was the best Christmas ever!

About a year or so ago, I asked my step-grandma how they had done that, remembering it fondly. "It was Santa," she answered, like I was still six years old. As much as I wanted to know, (so I could do the same for kids and grand kids or with my niece in the future,) I was glad that that was all she told me. I am happy that there is, even now, still a little magic in Christmas.

My Favorite Halloween Memory

It's is Halloween night. The kids are all out trick-or-treating in their various costumes and parents tag along to wait at the end of the driveways while children collect candy.

One large house near the far end of the street has no electric lights on. The path to the door is lit by torches and the path itself strategically littered with leaves. A well hidden mat, when trod on, gives the faintest of mysterious noises, so quiet you may not hear it. The sound of wind rustling through dry leaves. Children knock on the front door. It is answered by a gentleman with a long white beard in the black hat and cloak of a wizard. Old-fashioned wire glasses perch on the end of his nose.

The house is dark but for the candles lined on every available surface. You can just see the end of a long wooden table, covered in candles and other mysterious jars. A large dragon is perched on the stairs behind him; his head and neck stick out from around the corner. Occasionally he blows steam through his nostrils as his eye watches the door.

"Trick or treat!" the children cry.

"Would you like a trick or a treat?" he asks calmly.

The hesitant children (myself included) answer, "A treat," and are rewarded with candy.

The brave children and parents (my mom included) answer, "A trick," to which he doles out riddles to be answered by the end of the night for a special treat.

"What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees. Up, up it goes, and yet never grows."

Everyone ponders. Ask around. All the trick-or-treaters and parents in the neighborhood are talking about it. "What was your riddle?" "Do you know the answer to..."

A couple hours later we return with my mom to give her answer: "a mountain."

My mom is invited in to stand near the table of candles and jars. She may pick her special treat from the mysterious jars. She picks a jar containing a liquid-y substance with good-smelling herbs in it that he assures her is a good health potion. Just put some on as you would a lotion. We walk home curious, excited, and pleased. Most of all, we can't wait until next year to visit the wizard's house.

The gentleman who lived in that house did this for several years. He was one of the only people who knew that Becca and I were from CATS when we came around in 7th or 8th grade. He eventually stopped, but to this day we still refer to The Wizard and his house. I have decided that I am going to do this on Halloween when I have a house. I will be the mysterious witch who gives out riddles and health potions and who, hopefully, gives kids a unique and unforgettable Halloween experience.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Memory, All Alone in the Moonlight, I Can Smile at the Old Days...

Recently my dad decided to move and sell the house. Unfortunately we are a whole family of pack rats so we have tons of things to go through. Between the basement, main level, and my bedroom, I have dug up tons of old things and memories. I am trying to be pretty ruthless in getting rid of all my (let's be honest) crap, but it has been tough. I am waaaay too sentimental for my own good.

The first day I was doing this, my mom and I worked namely in the basement. While we did get through all of my boxes down there, it's a scary place. Hence my protective equipment:

Yep, gloves! To protect me from spiders! (We didn't have another pair of gardening gloves, so snow gloves were the next best thing).

And look at some of the things I found in my boxes:

Pogs! Yep, that's right! I don't ever remember playing, but friends must have given me some.

VERY old clothes. Some of these things will be kept. I am determined to be a quilter one day, so the fabrics/memories will come in handy.

Lots of Polly Pockets which will hopefully make some other little kids happy soon.

And just because I can post them, here is the kitty (Faithful aka Fidge, Monster, Bug, etc.) and the doggie (Amber).

Once my dad sells the house, my brother or I get to adopt Amber. Luckily my mom will take the Fidge so they will go to good homes. My poor old doggie. She's about 13, has arthritis, and is just about deaf. Someone has to take her home, right? She's so sweet and loves everyone. And I would be happy to have a dog! At the moment I have a little hamster, but he's more than three years old (and if you don't know hamsters, three years is about the maximum lifespan). I've had him since he was born, his name is Pico, and I love him more than I love most people. I will be sad when he's gone, so Amber will be a great comfort for me. Just for fun, here is little Pico eating an apple!