I haven’t blogged much about writing since, December 1st, simply because when the holiday’s hit, my writing goes right out the window. Instead my focus is preparation, family and friends, all the stuff that goes with it…including the process of decorating the tree. I love decorating my Christmas tree. I know its work. We have to fight to get it out of the attic, (it’s artificial), then to set it up, and then haul out all the boxes of decorations, as we fight with lights, as we determine which work and which don’t, or won’t continue to through the holidays.

Once the furniture is moved, the tree is in place, the lights are strung, I start opening the boxes of items I see only once a year. It’s like seeing adored old friends after a very long time. It takes me hours to trim the tree, because I stop and remember where so many of my ornaments came from.

My children’s handmade ornaments always make me smile. I recall the way they smelled of sweet grass, crayons, and sweaty hair, when they charged into the house, with their gift in hand. Filled with pride, they would give it to me. Then there is my old tattered angel that a favorite great-aunt gave me when I was very small. Every year my mother gave me an ornament with the year on it. They stop with 2005.  There are the other ornaments I have bought on trips across the country and the world. I have dozens from my home state of Minnesota.

From my grandkids, I have special ornaments. The latest, is a frog. I couldn’t resist, the look of joy in my granddaughter’s face as she handed it to me, announcing, “It made me think of you.” Hmmm…is that how they see me? A frog in a toto? Well, she is holding a gift shaped like a heart, that might mean something.  They know they have my heart.  

Once everything is hung, I’ll stand back and take a look at my handy work. I’m the only tree trimmer, I don’t let Poppy do it. I’ll make adjustments through out the holiday, its never perfect.

When we have Christmas, I fall in love with the look in my grandkids eyes, and grown children’s faces, as they see the tree in the living room. My sons, especially like to look at the ornaments, marveling at the fact I still have the old ones I bought at a clearance sale, when we had no money, no gifts, and little food for dinner, and a scruffy little tree we got free on Christmas eve as the lot was closing. I keep those ornaments as reminders of where we came from, and where we are today. Although, it was difficult times, I have some of the best memories of just making things work, baking cookies, and watching Charlie Brown’s Christmas with my kids, as they squirmed and giggled for a spot next to me on our broken down tattered couch, covered with the ugliest afghan on earth, bought at a rummage sale for a $1.

Then there is the cat. What is a tree without a cat sleeping under it? Our cat, Zip has her favorite place where she curls up between packages. She has been a tiny blessing for me and Poppy. Abandoned by a family that’s home foreclosed in the area, after roaming the neighborhood for several weeks, she adopted us as her family.  It was right before Christmas. This is our second year with her under the tree, and we can’t image our holidays without her. Just like the old ornaments and memories, she is comfort to us.

I hope everyone has a wonderful, loved filled holiday, and best wishes in the New Year.

Question of the Day:  What is your favorite Holiday habit?   

Here is a selection of books for the Holidays. When I went searching for holiday books, I was astounded by the selection…Here are a few recommendations a little of something for everyone.

 Merry Christmas, and Happy New Years.

I’m not a big fan of Survivor. You know the show. I feel it celebrates cruel behavior, all justified with a prize of a million dollars. So when Poppy, (a fan) watches it, I’m usually on the computer, knitting, or doing something to take me away from it. But this last Thursday, I found myself actually enthralled in what I saw, and it was the faces of the Survivors in love.

Last week the show brought the loved ones of the group to visit them in Africa. I was amazed at the transformation of the contestants from thin, pale, and mean, to more relaxed features, as soft edges appeared around their eyes. Tears of joy washed away the weariness that veiled their features. These cruel people in a split second become softened by the heart, and made human by those they looked to for comfort in their lives. Right before the cameras, as if a magician reconstructed their souls, they changed.  

Then when the spouses, friends and family members were taken away, the devil returned with a vengeance. They seemed more determined then ever to succeed no matter what the cost. As long as in the end, the million dollars dangling in their face, landed in their pocket. Love fed them like a celebrated meal, energizing their purpose for being there.   

The whole scenario fascinated me.  

I tried to find the words to describe those moments on the small screen when I found the faces change. It was something, that one knows happens naturally, but I had never experienced seeing it before. Or if I had, I was oblivious to it. What I found amazing, it was real. There was no make-up, no special effects, just human nature blossoming with the presence of love.  Right on the screen the unique connection of the souls glowed, like diamonds left lying on the ground.

I never put a face on love, until I saw it for myself on Survivor.  For the first time, I really saw the love that makes us all human and in so many ways better at this life. It supports the soul with a small beam of sparkling sunlight.

It’s hard to capture this look on paper. After realizing it is a real transformation, not just a writer’s imagination. For it can be a scene on its own. The face of true love uninterrupted by a physical touch or sex.  

Question of the Day: Where have you experienced the face of love?

A few months ago I emailed Mrs. Claus requesting an interview for Chasing Heroes. I didn’t receive a response until the other evening when my doorbell rang, and standing on my front porch was Mrs. C, draped in pink faux fur, trimmed in white. On the lawn was a pink and purple sled, pulled by a four beautiful white stags, whose antlers sparkled with diamonds. Behind her stood a group of her SSE’s, (Secret Service Elves). Their eyes covered in wrap around shades. They all wore dark green suits, stiff white shirts and a narrow red tie. They didn’t smile as their small earpieces sat neatly in the pointed rims of their ears.  But Mrs. C’s did smile and it was beautiful as it caressed her features, like a fairy hiding in secret, her eyes sparkled with mischief.

CH: Thank you Mrs. C for taking time out of your busy schedule to visit me.

Mrs. C: You’re so welcome. I couldn’t resist your invitation. I’m a regular lurker on the blog. Love all the heroes.

CH:   So tell me I’ve always been curious, how did you meet the man in red?

Mrs. C:Well, he got stuck in my chimney. I’m from a small Northern Minnesota town. I’m a farm girl. My family owned the local dairy. You might have heard of it, Frost Bite.  It’s famous for another celebrity, Bull Winkle Moose.  Anyhoo, he got stuck. I had just broken up with a crappy no good, son-of-a-oh I’m getting carried away. Anyway, I had to get up on the roof, hoping not to wake Papa, take a broom, and shove it nearly right up Chris’, a–I mean rear, and push him down the rest of the way. I guess through all the soot, one could say it was love at first sight. Even though Papa did fire off a couple rounds from his shot gun, Chris returned after he had finished his run. We had coffee, which lead to dinner, drinks, and some great–.  Well, you get the picture, and the rest is history. I think our first sled ride is what did it. I was hooked. Yep, ole Saint Nick hit a home run on the first date. And ya know, he ain’t no saint. (She laughed)

CH: Where did he take you?

Mrs. C: He took me to Venice, for dinner, then on to Paris for a stroll down the streets along the left bank. We spent the night in London. Oh, I just gave up my secret, who’d guess the ole guy’s so very romantic?

CH: Wow, who would have thought.  How do you like living in the North Pole?

Mrs. C: Oh, we don’t live up there anymore. With all the global warming and ice melting, we spend most of the year in the South of France, and a lot of time in one of your favorite places, the west isles of Ireland. I only go back to the Pole, in December to help Chris out. But as soon as Christmas morning hits, we’re out of there and off to the Bahamas, for some well earned R & R. Say, do you have anything to drink?

CH: How rude of me.  Water, soda, coffee?

Mrs. C: How about a dirty martini with extra olive?

CH: Uh, sure. I can make that-I think.

Mrs. C:Shaken not stirred. (She laughed.) I don’t like fofo drinks. I like something that really has a nice kick to it. Like a nice shot of Jameson, straight up. (More giggles.)

CH: (I made her a martini and we continued). So what do you do on Christmas Eve while Santa is at work?

Mrs. C: I go with him. Our main helper elf retired so I took over. I do all the driving. And there’s another reason.  Ever since Madonna came out with Santa Baby a few years back, I’ve had to go. Women all over the world get some wild hair up their butt and decide to play the part of a sexy minx, when he comes tumbling down the chimney…Well, let me tell you, I can’t have that. So I spoiled his fun, and keep him right on schedule. (Giggling) Of course that’s what I did when I met him. It wasn’t all about the chimney.

CH: The list. (As soon as I mentioned it, a SSE steps forward. Mrs. C held up a gentle hand and waved him back.)

Mrs. C: Take a chill pill, Oli. (Big sigh) The list is top secret. If I tell ya, I’m going to have to kill ya. (Laugh). This much I can tell you, where kids are concerned, there is no naughty and nice crap. Everyone gets a visit from Chris, even if they don’t know it. He’s been there.  (She raises a blond eyebrow) Now adults on the other hand, they know better. Not to change the subject, but to change the subject, excellent martini by the way…Lets go for a ride, shall we. The night is beautiful, the stags are horny-I mean ready to run.

When I climbed into the sled, I felt as if I was a child again, in the most beautiful dream. Mrs. C grabbed the reins as tiny pieces of sparkle fell from them. It covered everything, for only a moment, then disappeared. She said it was stardust. She wrapped me up in a pink rug of the softest wool I’ve ever experienced. She put a white headset on and started to talk military speak as the SSE’s climbed onto the back of the waiting reindeer’s. We took off into the hemisphere, over my small town, and many more. The SSE pushed their reindeer to keep up. She’s a speed demon. As we flew, Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven surrounded us.

We finally landed at my cousin’s Pub in the wild west of Ireland. I was astounded by the fact that everyone knew her! Wow, can that woman sing and dance.

Since Mrs. C gives few interviews, she said she’d answer any questions you might have for her on-line here at CH. So just ask away and she’ll answer them! The sky is the limit.