I was writing an email to a dear friend in Australia today and she was telling me of some of the Holiday celebrations she remembered.
It would be interesting to celebrate the Holidays in a warmer climate, like Australia, for example. It's hot this time of year, and most are on the beach enjoying the sun and sand. The barbies are blazing, and yes, there will be turkey roasts smoking.
It would be interesting to celebrate the Holidays in a warmer climate, like Australia, for example. It's hot this time of year, and most are on the beach enjoying the sun and sand. The barbies are blazing, and yes, there will be turkey roasts smoking.
Growing up, I always thought California was the last place on earth one would feel the Christmas Spirit, what, with no snow or a blazing fire in the hearth to warm us.
It was 60 degrees outside on Christmas morning, when I was growing up and still, my dad would always start a fire in the fireplace, (mostly so he could burn all the wrapping paper that was discarded in the frenzy of presents being unwrapped. I thought we were the only house in Citrus Heights with a fireplace-who needs a fireplace when the winters never got below 52?
I recall one Christmas when we gave our Cocker Spaniel, Lady, a bone in her own personal Christmas stocking. She went off into a corner of the living room, with her chew-bone, and dared anyone to get near her. I purposefuly threw all my gift wrap in her direction, to isolate her so she wouldn't feel so threatened by anyone who might want her bone. It was hilarious watching her lay there guarding her bone, growling at anyone who dared look her way. She was such a bitch in the true sense of the word~ LOL!
Dad would get a fire going in the fireplace and it was customary that I would stay in bed until he had the fire roaring. Mom would then call me to get up, and we would have pancakes, waffles, eggs and bacon for breakfast, before presents would be opened. Could she have presented a more elaborate buffet, to keep me detained as long as possible??? It was maddening and I think she enjoyed making me wait to open my presents. If she only knew (and I'm sure she did) the one time I sneaked a peek and ruined my own Christmas. I had to pretend to be surprised-that must have been a real show!
I hope my kids read this. Our memoirs are precious and somebody has to hear them. Women were the Original Story-Tellers from the Beginning of Time, and we must keep our history to pass down to our children, and their children ~ :)
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